


Through Dangers Untold and Hardships Unnumbered

by indiefic



Series: Through Dangers Untold and Hardships Unnumbered [1]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drug Addiction, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Modern Day Steggy, Multi, Peggy Carter doesn't age, Peggy Carter was captured by Hydra, Sharon Carter is Steve and Peggy's daughter, dysfunctional family dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-04-12 02:10:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 34
Words: 98,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4461296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indiefic/pseuds/indiefic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set post-Captain America: the Winter Soldier.  Steve's been lost since they thawed him out.  When he discovers Peggy Carter is still alive, he's even more lost.  Sometimes reuniting with the love of your life isn't happily ever after.  Sometimes, it's the very beginning of the hardest thing you've ever done.</p><p>((or, that one fic where Bucky's medical records are missing.  Tony thinks Fury's growing super soldiers.  Fury thinks Steve has an illegitimate daughter.  Natasha knows a lot more than she's saying.  And everyone's afraid of Peggy.))</p><p>Numerous flashbacks to the Captain America and Agent Carter timelines.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Redacted

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for the entire Marvel Movie Universe through the Winter Soldier, including Agents of SHIELD and Agent Carter. 
> 
> That said, some serious AU about 3/4 of the way through Captain America and significant changes throughout the universe as follows. 
> 
> Steve and Peggy did NOT reunite during The Winter Soldier.

**Post Captain America: the Winter Soldier; Pre-Avengers: Age of Ultron**

 

* * *

 

 

“That wasn't our mission.”

 

Tony's lips pursed together, his head canted to the side as he paced the briefing room.  Inwardly, Steve steeled himself against the coming onslaught. He wasn't great at reading the finer strokes of Tony's particular emotional carnage, but he knew the billionaire, genius, philanthropist, spoiled brat well enough to know that his rejoinder would be scathing.  And personal.

 

Steve didn’t get Tony.  He never had.  It never ceased to amaze Steve just how similar Howard and his son could be while also being so completely different.  Howard had been an ally, and more importantly, a friend.  Steve and Tony were usually on the same side.  Usually.  But they weren’t friends.  Steve didn’t understand a lot about Tony, but he understood that Stark hated him, resented him.  

 

The few times Steve mentioned Tony’s animosity to Nat, she just looked at him.  Steve took the set of her features to mean that she understood Tony’s motivation, but even if she explained it to Steve, it wasn’t something she thought that he could ever understand.

 

“You’re a good man, Cap,” she would say.  “Better than all of us.  Better than we deserve.”

 

It wasn’t an answer.  It wasn’t even particularly true.  But it was all Steve could get out of her on the subject.

 

“You know,” Tony started, with deliberate and false calm, “I’ve told you before, I’m not a soldier.”  He smiled tightly, no teeth, no mischief in his eyes, but plenty of malice.  He spared a glance at Banner and then Fury.  “But you,” he said, eyebrows raised as he stared directly at Steve.  “You are.  You’re the soldier.  The living legend.  The shining example for which we should all strive.”  Steve could hear the venom dripping from his words.

 

Tony shrugged with exaggerated casualness, making a circuit around the large conference table.  “Me, I’m the wild card, the problem case.  Tony doesn’t play well with the other kids.”  

 

Steve stood there, arms crossed over his chest, watching Tony prowl.  So far nothing Tony had said was news to anyone in the room, and yet, everyone was on edge.  Well, except Thor.  That guy didn’t give a rat’s ass about Tony’s drama.  Though, Steve supposed, if you grew up with Loki as your little brother, it probably set the drama bar pretty high.  Tony had yet to enslave a planet for kicks.

 

“But for all of my ... “ Tony looked away, searching for the words, “ _specific challenge_ s, I’ve never literally abandoned anyone.   I’ve fucked things up.  I’ve been unable to save some people who deserved to be saved.  But I’ve never tapped out on someone who needed me.  I imagine it would be pretty hard to live with.”  He smiled mirthlessly.  “Hard for me.  The consummate narcissist and occasional sociopath.  Just imagine what it would do to someone like, say,  Rogers.”

 

Steve stared at him.  “I never leave a man behind.”

 

Tony smiled again, this time all teeth.  Like a shark.  “Yeah?  Tell that to Barnes or Comrade whatever the fuck his name is today.”

 

Steve looked at Fury, who was unreadable as usual.  But the look on Nat’s face.  If looks could kill, and quite possibly, Nat’s could, Tony would be dead on the spot.  In that instant, Steve understood he was a pawn to Tony.  This tantrum may have been directed at Steve, but Fury was Tony’s real target.

 

“I’ve already told you, Stark, no one is going to help you hunt down Bucky.” Steve snapped.  “Find some other way to work through your issues.  You’re not going to get vengeance.”

 

“Maybe it’s not just my vengeance I’m worried about,” Tony said, meeting Steve’s glance.  “Maybe it doesn’t have anything to do with the past.  Maybe this is all about the future.”

 

“Do the rest of us need to be here?” Banner asked, glasses dangling from his fingers.  At Tony’s glare, he shrugged.  “Really,” he said.  “I don’t see what this has to do with any of the rest of us.”

 

Tony grinned, in real amusement this time.  “Oh, this involves all of us,” he assured him.  “Especially if Fury is planning on leveling the field with Hydra by creating a new race of super assassins using Barnes as a template.”

 

“Oh,” Bruce said.  He turned to Fury.  “Yeah, why don’t you go ahead and explain how that works, Nick.”

 

“That’s not what’s happening,” Fury said darkly.  “Nothing like that at all.”

 

Tony was clearly unconvinced.  “So,” he said, addressing the room, “we all know that with Ms. Romanov’s Snowden move, she didn’t really release all of SHIELD’s secrets.  Some of them were too dangerous for anyone but Fury, right.  So much for the greater good.”

 

“Barnes’ information was in there,” Fury said, jaw tight.

 

Tony shrugged.  “Some of it,” he conceded.  “Not all.  I was particularly intrigued by what, exactly, was missing.  Rogers, I get.  End of the war.  Between dear ol’ dad and Carter, they managed to destroy all of the medical records and samples.  No one could retrace Erskine’s steps.”  He glanced at Bruce, wincing.  “Sorry about that.”

 

“Oh, no,” Bruce said, with exaggerated calm.  “It’s fine.”

 

“But Barnes,” Tony said, arms wide.  “The Soviets may have been shit with economic systems, but they definitely knew how to document, especially when they had the Nazi records as a starting point.  Barnes’ records were exhaustive.”

 

Fury crossed his arms over his chest, saying nothing.

 

“So ... what?”  Steve asked.  “Bucky’s records are missing?”

 

“Redacted,” Tony clarified.  “Medical records were hidden.  Moved to Fury’s private data cache.  But only the genetics, which makes sense if you’re trying to track Erskine’s serum over time, the acute and chronic effects, improvements.  Especially if you’re trying to recreate it.”

 

Fury shook his head, jaw muscles protruding.  “It wasn’t done with an eye toward weaponization,” Fury said.  “It was meant to protect.”

 

“Tomato, to-mah-toe,” Tony sing songed.  

 

“You don’t know a damn thing, Stark,” Fury said.  “It wasn’t just about Barnes.  Other people’s safety could be compromised by those records.”

 

Steve’s brow furrowed.

 

“Other people?” Tony asked, clearly unconcerned.  “Like who?  Barnes’ daughter.  Last I heard she could take care of herself.  Even turned down a job offer from you.”

 

Steve’s head snapped toward Tony.  “Bucky has a daughter?  Is she in danger?”

 

Tony shrugged.  “Doubt it,” he said, unconcerned.  “She’s a bit like you and Barnes.  Pinnacle of humanity or something.  Slow to age.  More on the brain than brawn side of the spectrum.  She doesn’t strike me as someone who needs protection, especially when her father’s a ghost.”

 

“Yeah,” Fury replied, laughing mirthlessly.  “All of that would be true if Barnes was her father.  But if he wasn’t - “ Fury continued, nearly growling, clearly on the offensive.  “If the individual who supplied half her DNA was someone a bit higher profile, say, maybe someone who made a hell of a lot of enemies, someone who got Erskine’s perfected formula and not Schmidt’s frankenstein version ...”  He held his hands up.  “Well, then, that would be something, wouldn’t it?  Hypothetically.”

 

Everyone in the room turned to look at Steve.  Steve shook his head.  “No way,” he said.  “Not possible.”

 

Fury shrugged.  “I thought the same thing myself,” he said.  “For years it was just a rumor.  Then I met you and that lovely flagpole you have stuck up your ass about manners and morals and shit and I knew it had to be a rumor.  There was no way Captain Steven G. Rogers had carnal knowledge of some lovely young lady and then left her in a delicate condition while he went to sleep for seventy years.  And the idea of you providing a ... biological sample.”  He laughed.

 

“And then?” Tony prompted.

 

Fury shook his head.  “And then I found out otherwise, the same way you did.  Because of Barnes’ files.”

 

“I don’t follow,” Tony replied.

 

“Rogers, you ol’ dog,” Fury said, smiling at Steve.  Then he turned to Tony.  “I didn’t redact those files.”

 

“Then who did,” Tony pressed.

 

Fury shook his head and then smiled mirthlessly.  “Contrary to popular opinion, I do report to people, I am outranked.  As much as I am faithful to SHIELD, there are others with a vested interest in protecting the organization and its reputation at all costs.  An illegitimate child of one of America’s greatest heroes might not have seem like a big deal now, but seventy years ago ... “

 

“I’m not talking about seventy years ago,” Tony snapped.  “I’m talking about now.  Someone redacted those files months ago, not decades.”

 

“Carter,” Fury said evenly.  “Peggy Carter.”

  


END CHAPTER


	2. October 1944

**October 1944**

 

“Rogers,” Falsworth bellowed.  “She’s here.”

 

Peggy groaned, curling tighter into a little ball on the cold steel gurney, trembling violently.  It felt like mere moments later and Steve was there, crouched over her.  “Peggy?” his voice was tight.  He pulled at the handcuff securing her wrist to the table, easily snapping the links.

 

“I’m fine,” she said reflexively, moving to try and push herself into a sitting position.  The effort made her retch.

 

Steve waited until she was finished gagging and then didn’t bother asking before scooping her up into his arms.  Every inch of Peggy Carter’s body hurt.  The pressure points where her body came into contact with his was absolute agony.  The tips of her fingers, her earlobes, even her damned toes hurt.  Her brain and stomach were mounting counter offensives against each other, clearly in a race to murder one another.  She knew Steve was trying to be as careful as possible, but it was torture.  To her eternal relief, she finally passed out and everything went black and still.

 

* * *

 

 

It was dark and raining.  Peggy cracked open an eye, staring out the opening of a military issue tent at several feet of dense brush.  Beyond, she could see the embers of a fire, the silhouette of a man smoking, probably Morita from the way his shoulders hunched forward.  

 

It was bitterly cold.  Her nose, where it poked out of the tent, was nearly frozen, but she would gladly bear the sensation for the fresh air.  She didn’t think she would ever be able to completely rid herself of the stench of that lab.  Even now, despite the fresh air, she could smell it on herself, like it seeped into her very skin.  That was why her nose was sticking out of the tent, freezing.

 

She blinked, closing her eyes, retreating slightly inside the blankets.  She’d spent enough time roughing it in this dreadful weather to know that the rest of her body should have been freezing as well.  On nights like this, it was impossible to stay warm, no matter how many scratchy wool blankets she was able to charm out of the supply manager.  She quickly took stock.  She wasn’t freezing.  She felt better.  Not good, but certainly an improvement.  Frowning to herself, she recalled the fact that she’d vomited on Steve as he carried her to safety.  Probably twice.

 

After she initially lost consciousness, her memories were a blur, fragments of coherence interspersed with more darkness.  Lots of yelling, lots of running.  Bouncing around in the back of a transport across rough territory, as she did her damndest not to die.  Jones had given her an injection of something that had lessened the agony to manageable levels, though it had knocked her out for quite a while.

 

Bloody hells, how long had she been held prisoner?  The Hydra operatives took her from London, shortly after the cluster of air raids that had taken out half their communications relays.  Spending too much time with super heroes and geniuses lulled her into overestimating her own abilities.  She should have heard them coming.  She didn’t.  Not until it was too late.

 

She had vague recollections of Zola and Schmidt, the red skull grinning into her face.  The table.  The injections.  Some of them had been variations on truth serums, the others, hells she didn’t even know.  She couldn’t begin to hazard a guess as to what they might have poisoned her with.  Or why.  They’d nearly killed her with their experiments, that much she knew.  When Falsworth had finally found her in that dismal little lab, she’d been at death's door, left behind as collateral damage in Hydra’s retreat.  That’s what Schmidt had wanted, her death and subsequent discovery.  She was glad to have snatched that victory from him, least of all because she was rather attached to the idea of living.

 

She took a deep breath and it shifted her ribcage enough that she immediately knew why she wasn’t cold.  In an instant, she went from dozing to every nerve being a live wire.

 

“Breathe, Peggy,” Steve whispered.  “Jones doesn’t want you passing out again.  Something about hypoxia.”

 

Experimentally, Peggy touched the tips of her fingers to her abdomen and confirmed what she already knew, she was naked save for a pair of worn, military issue undergarments, which had definitely seen better days.  She traced her fingers to her hip and then down to her thigh, skimming backward to where his bare thighs were tucked behind her own.

 

She cleared her throat delicately.  “Jones’s orders and yet he’s not here to watch over his patient,” she whispered.  “How rude.”

 

Steve shifted, his arm banding around her middle, managing to avoid both her hips and breasts as he pulled her back against the searing warmth of his chest, covered by nothing more than a threadbare undershirt.

 

“Didn’t give him that option,” Steve whispered tightly.  They were quiet for several long moments.  Peggy concentrated on the sound of water dripping against the tent, the feel of Steve’s sparingly clothed body wrapped around her own.

 

“We nearly lost you out there,” Steve said, his arm tightening just a fraction.  “It was close.  Real close.”

 

Peggy felt the reality of that statement in her bones.  She’d nearly died.  She certainly felt as if she’d nearly died.  But for Steve to have pulled rank and stripped them both down to their skivvies in a tent mere steps from his men -  She did not doubt that he believed her death had been a near miss.  “How long have we been here?” she asked.

 

“Coupla hours,” he said.  “We’re still deep in enemy territory.  Jones didn’t want to risk transporting you any further, didn’t think you’d make it.”

 

“I feel better,” she said meekly, embarrassed to be such a burden.

 

“Yeah,” Steve said, sounding unconvinced.  He laughed shortly and she was enchanted by the way she could feel it echo through her body.  “You know, Peggy,” he whispered, his lips nearly brushing the shell of her ear, “if you wanted me in your bunk, there were easier ways to make it happen.  You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”

 

She huffed, half-heartedly swatting at his arm.  “Speaking of,” she said.  “Why am I nearly naked while you’re wearing a shirt?”

 

She heard his mouth open and she could clearly imagine his blush, the frantic turning of his mental wheels as he searched for an answer.

 

“Give me your shirt,” she said.

 

He seemed relieved, like he expected her to yell at him.  He levered himself up enough to shrug out of his shirt and handed it to her under the blankets.  She pulled it over her head, trying not to take notice of how it smelled like him, which, while not great, was still better than the stench of that lab.  As she intended, it was far too large, covering her to mid-thigh.

 

He was almost preternaturally still, waiting, no doubt, for her to boot him out of the tent.  She, however, had other ideas.  More comfortable clothed, she lay back down and glanced over her shoulder in a move that could only be interpreted as a complaint about his absence.  She smiled at his sigh of relief as he sank back down behind her, pulling her close again.

 

“You were in shock,” he said quietly.   “Bad.”  He stopped, swore tightly under his breath and seemed to regroup.  “It was bad, Peggy.  Jones thought.  I thought - “

 

She laid her hand over the arm banded around her middle and he seemed to relax a bit.  “Your core body temperature was plummeting.  Jones couldn’t stabilize you.  We couldn’t afford to try and limp all the way back to base.  We dug in for the night.”

 

“I’m sorry,” she said seriously.  “For all the trouble.”

 

Steve shrugged.  “There was never any question,” he said.  “You’re part of the team, Peggy.  The fellas would do anything for ya.  Even Phillips went a little nuts.  There was no trace in London.  We were out here on a completely unrelated mission.  It’s a miracle Falsworth stumbled across you.  All of us, we’d do anything for you.”

 

“And yet you’re the one in here,” she said quietly.

 

He was silent for a long time.  “I’m warmer than the other guys,” he said with forced calm.  “Side effect of Erskine’s formula.  I run hotter.”

 

“Oh, I’d noticed,” she said, smiling in the darkness.  She could almost feel him blushing.  Under the covers, she found his hand, tracing the lines of his fingers, twining them through her own.  She could feel his breath catch and she didn’t miss the way he shifted, angling his hips away from her.

 

She heard him open his mouth and then close it again.

 

“I’m feeling much better,” she said, meaning it.  “I’m reasonably certain I’m out of danger of dying from shock.”

 

“Yeah,” he said noncommittally.  

 

“Not that I'm suggesting I don’t need you to regulate my body temperature,” she added in a helpful tone.

 

“Good,” he said warily, his fingers tightening around hers, which prevented her hands from wandering.

 

They were quiet for a long time, fingers playing lightly against one another.  

 

“Do you really not feel the cold?” she asked.

 

He shrugged.  “Not really.  I’m aware of it.  Can’t say I enjoy being out in the freezing rain, but it doesn’t bother me the way it used to before - “

 

“Before Erskine’s formula?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

She frowned in the darkness.  Steve spoke about his newfound abilities like he was embarrassed.  She sighed.  “Well, I, for one am quite grateful that you ‘run hotter’, Captain.  I’ve spent innumerable nights in the field shivering so hard I couldn’t sleep.  This is far preferable.”

 

She could feel him smile against her shoulder.  “Glad to be of service, ma’am.”

 

They didn’t speak much more after that.  Peggy dozed off and on for hours.  She was tired, but also reluctant to sleep through what was a thoroughly enjoyable experience.  She knew Steve wasn’t sleeping.  She felt a little bad about that.  Surely he needed the sleep.  He might have been the pinnacle of human abilities, but he was human at the core, with human physiology, which required sleep.  

 

At first light, they were all moving.  Jones pronounced her fit enough to make like hell for safer territory and that’s what they did.  Peggy managed to keep up, though she was finally forced to admit to herself, if no one else, that her bluster to Steve about how much she had recovered was just that, bluster.  She felt like death.  Or like death would be preferable.

 

By nightfall, she was weak and shaking, though still on her feet, supported between Steve and Dernier.  They were still miles from camp and still behind enemy lines.  The fellas, as Steve called them, were doubtless slowing their pace to accommodate her and while she was embarrassed and angered by that fact, she also knew that she was not capable of moving any faster.

 

They dug in again for the night, in yet more dripping rain.  Peggy took a seat on a log, shivering uncontrollably.  In the distance, Steve and Dugan were conferring in hushed tones.  Peggy knew they were strategizing the procurement of another vehicle.  They’d been forced to abandon the truck mid-afternoon after they broke an axle on deeply rutted roads.

 

Barnes took a seat next to her and was uncharacteristically quiet.  She expected him to chat her up, as he seemed to do with every female, regardless of any other considerations.  But he just sat there.  Then, unexpectedly, he took her wrist and rubbed across the inside with his thumb.  She was so stunned at the idea that he was being fresh with her that it took her a moment to realize that wasn’t what he was doing.

 

“Ya feel like yer insides are all in knots, right,” he said, rhetorically.  “Like yer guts are trying to crawl out any way they can.”

 

She swallowed thickly.  “Uh, yes,” she admitted quietly, gently pulling her wrist out of his grip.  “That’s a fairly apt description.”

 

He nodded, eyes fixed in the distance at Steve and Dugan.  “Pretty sure that’s not how Steve felt,” he said quietly.  “Pretty sure the stuff he got from Erskine didn’t have these ...” he frowned, “side effects.”  

 

Peggy understood what he meant. It was an inadequate euphemism for the horrific sensation that she was being betrayed by her own body.  Peggy knew that Barnes had been sick when Steve rescued him from the Hydra base, but she hadn’t realized he’d been subjected to Zola’s experimentation.  It was a safe bet no one else knew either, except Steve, apparently.  Steve, who had kept Barnes’ secret, just as he would keep her secret, to prevent them being treated like lab rats, the way he was.

 

Peggy glanced sidelong at Barnes, studying his profile.  He was a handsome man with more charm than any one human deserved.  It was easy to write him off as a cad, just another soldier, a young man in his prime, serving his country.  But there was more to him than that and it had little to do with the haunted look in his eyes.

 

These days everyone accepted Steve and Barnes’ friendship at face value.  They were both heroes.  But for the bulk of their friendship, it hadn’t been that way, had it?  Barnes had been Steve’s best friend when Steve was the ninety pound asthmatic.  Barnes had protected Steve and Steve had protected Barnes.  How many of their peers had outgrown Steve and left him behind? Peggy was willing to bet all of them.  All of them except Barnes.  Barnes wasn’t loyal to Captain America, he was loyal to Steve.

 

“You loved him when he was the little guy, didn’t you?” Peggy asked him, speaking before she’d even finished the thought.

 

Barnes turned and looked at her with those unfathomable blue eyes.  “Yeah,” he said.  “So did you.”

 

Peggy just stared at him, not even bothering to deny it.

 

“Here, Barnes,” Falsworth said, tossing one end of the blanket to Barnes as he took a seat on the opposite side of Peggy, “I know how you hate the cold.”  Sandwiched between the two of them and covered with the blanket, Peggy felt marginally better.  Physically, at least, even if her ego had been mortally wounded.

 

* * *

 

 

“C’mon, Peggy.”

 

Steve’s voice woke her from where she was dozing against Barnes’ shoulder.  It was dark and still dripping.  He pulled on her forearm and she managed to stumble to her feet, shivering.  Despite the blanket and the shared body heat of Falsworth and Barnes, Peggy was soaked to the bone and trembling violently.  “Where - “

 

Steve shook his head.  “Bunking down,” he said in a whisper.  “Your virtue isn’t safe out here with Bucky.”

 

“Hey,” Barnes replied in mock hurt.  They were putting on a show for her, which worried Peggy.  Maybe she was dying this time.

 

She had little memory of Steve getting her into the tent and out of her soaked clothing.  By the time she was coherent again, it was the dead of night and she knew she’d been pressed against Steve’s bare chest for hours.  She was still shivering, her teeth chattering together.  Steve didn’t say anything, but his arms tightened around her.  How many people had he lost? His parents?  Bucky, if only for a day.  She didn’t want to be another of his losses.

 

* * *

 

 

Peggy never did know exactly how they got her back to camp.  By the time she came around, Colonel Phillips was the one checking on her, grumbling and poking her, though even she could tell he was relieved.  Steve and the fellas were long gone on another mission.

 

Peggy found the drawing Steve left for her, of the indomitable Agent Carter toasting her toes in front of a roaring fire.  She still had his undershirt.

 

And there was no mention in her records, or Barnes’ about any of Zola’s experiments.


	3. Present / November 1944

Steve was lost - even more so than usual, which was quite the feat in itself.  And here he’d thought he was acclimating.  

 

There was a woman of indeterminate parentage, who Fury claimed Peggy Carter was protecting.  Stark thought the woman was Bucky’s daughter.  Fury was insinuating she was Steve’s daughter - though Steve already knew that was categorically impossible.  

 

And Bucky’s medical records had been redacted, recently, by Peggy Carter.

 

 _If_ Fury was to believed, which Steve ... didn’t.

 

Peggy Carter was dead.  Steve read the files.  He saw the newsreels, saw the footage of Peggy being interviewed, long after the war.  She died decades before they pulled him out of the ice.  She spent her life running the SSR and then SHIELD.  She’d been married and widowed, though it was easy enough to read between the lines and see that she had been married to her career.  

 

Peggy was dead.  She had to be dead.  Because as painful as her death was, the idea that she was alive and had left him dangling since they thawed him out wasn’t something he was capable of contemplating.  

 

Maybe ever.

 

Stark stared at Fury blankly, opened his mouth and then shut it again before regrouping.  “I know that Howard and Peggy spent a hell of a lot of time making sure no one could blemish Cap’s legacy.  How, exactly, would something like a child get by them?  I understand it’s a kid, but I know both of them well enough to know they’re capable of worse.”

 

“On this, Stark, you know as much as I do,” Fury replied evenly.  “Maybe even more than me.”

 

Stark frowned, clearly unconvinced.

 

Fury shrugged.  “Believe whatever you want.  I find it a lot more likely that Peggy Carter went out of her way to protect some kid of his,” he pointed his thumb at Steve, “than some kid of Barnes.  She spent fifty years trying to erase that guy.”

 

Whatever Tony was thinking, it didn’t show on his face.

 

“And if anyone is building super soldiers - and I don’t think they are,” Fury continued, “you’re going to need to take that up with Carter too.”

 

“The same Peggy Carter who has been dead for years,” Tony said flatly.

 

Fury just shrugged.

 

“You want me to believe some hundred year old woman knows how to make something in the cloud disappear?”  Tony let out a bark of laughter.  “You should see some of Rogers’ old WWII buddies.  They can’t find their dicks to take a piss.”

 

“I know it’s hard to believe,” Fury said evenly.  “Especially in light of just how incapable other senior citizens seem to be, like Rogers and Barnes.  I’m sure something like _the cloud_ would be beyond the capabilities of someone who ran SHIELD since its inception.”

 

Tony frowned, eyebrows pulling together.  “Are you telling me that Carter is like Rogers and Barnes?”

 

Fury’s face betrayed nothing.

 

Tony turned and looked at Steve, who immediately looked away.

 

“Sonofabitch,” Stark swore.

 

* * *

 

**November 1944**

 

 

Peggy couldn’t see Steve from her vantage point, but she knew he was below, on the machine floor of the Hydra base.  She leveled the sight and released a breath, pulling the trigger, watching the Hydra sharpshooter fall from the catwalk opposite.

 

“Buck!” Steve bellowed in the distance.

 

The fighting was intense and they’d already been going at it for hours.  Schmidt and Zola made their getaway, but scores of Hydra soldiers remained behind.  They had to reach the control room before the self-destruct timers ran out.  She knew they were cutting it close, very close.  This place could go up any second.

 

Peggy was lining up another shot when she nearly had her shoulder pulled out of its socket as Barnes hauled her to her feet, dragging her into a run behind him.

 

“What the hell are you doing, soldier?” Peggy seethed, but he was moving so fast she couldn't get enough traction to dig in her heels.

 

“Getting us the hell out of here,” Barnes replied, without bothering to turn and look at her.  He cut a hard left and made for the set of stairs.  

 

Peggy managed to hook her free arm around the railing, dragging both of them to a stop.  Barnes growled as he turned to face her.  “We can’t leave,” Peggy yelled before Barnes could get out a word.

 

“We can, and we will,” Barnes replied through gritted teeth.

 

Peggy was livid.  “You’d abandon your best friend.”  It wasn’t a question, but it was a low blow.

 

Barnes’ eyes twitched and the way his lips pursed together, Peggy suspected he was biting his tongue hard enough to draw blood.  “I’m not abandoning him,” Barnes finally replied, his voice barely audible over the din of the fighting.

 

“Then what do you call this?” Peggy demanded.

 

Explosions shook the entire structure.  Barnes shook his head.  “You can get your ass up and run, or I can throw you over my shoulder and drag you out of here, but we’re leavin’.”  

 

***

 

Peggy watched as Steve’s eyes fluttered open.  He blinked, frowning as he looked up at the worn tarp covering the back of the truck.  “How are you feeling?” she asked.

 

Steve’s eyes darted to her and he went very still.  He was flat on his back in the bed of a transport truck.  She was sitting on the bench that ran along the sides of the truck bed, looking down at him.  He took a deep breath and shifted.  “Better,” he said cautiously.

 

Peggy leaned over, pressing gingerly at his right temple, taking note of his grimace.  The bruise was still there, but the swelling had faded and his pupils were now the same size.  “Not quite good as new,” she said.  She looked him in the eye.  “But nearly.  Does it hurt?”

 

His expression was unreadable and he didn’t respond for a long time.  “Doesn’t feel great,” he finally said, shifting uneasily.  “But I’ll live.  What happened?”

 

“You managed to make it outside before the entire building went up.  But then you wandered too close to one of Dernier’s charges.  The blast threw you twenty feet back and into the side of a tank.  You were unconscious, probably with a skull fracture.”  She sighed heavily.  “It would have  killed anyone else.”

 

He nodded cautiously.  “Guess it’s my lucky day.”

 

“Quite,” she said gravely.  

 

They were silent for long minutes.  They could hear a multitude of sounds outside the truck, sounds of what remained of the Hydra base being pillaged, transports being loaded.  Even with Captain America incapacitated for half the battle, they’d managed to take the base.  It was in ruins, but surprising amounts of the control room were still intact.  Hopefully it yielded useful intel.

 

Without looking at Steve, Peggy said, “Barnes dragged me out of that base.”  She took a breath.  “On your orders.  Not that he admitted to that.”

 

Steve frowned, lips pursing together.  

 

“He nearly dislocated my shoulder,” she said with a tight smile.

 

“Oh, Peggy,” Steve said, frowning, pushing himself into a sitting position.  “I’m sorry.  I’m sure Bucky didn’t mean anything - “

 

“I know he didn’t mean anything by it,” Peggy replied crisply.  “Sergeant Barnes doesn’t particularly care for me.”  She narrowed her eyes at Steve, forestalling his reply.  “He tolerates me for your benefit.  But I don’t think he’s out to maim me.”

 

Steve just sat there, looking like he’d rather be doing anything - _anything_ \- other than having this conversation.

 

“I just need to make sure we get something straight, Captain,” Peggy said, leveling her gaze at him.  “I do not take orders from you.  I am not your responsibility.”

 

His expression would have broken her heart had she been any less angry.  But she was angry.  

 

“Peggy, I - “

 

“There is absolutely no claim between us, Captain,” she said sharply.  “If you or any of your men interfere with my mission again, I will see to it that you are all courtmartialed.  Have I made myself clear?”

 

Steve just stared at her for a moment and then nodded, eyes downcast.  “Yes, ma’am.”

 

***

 

Peggy heard the knock against the tent support as she was reviewing the latest stack of reports.  “Come in.”  She looked up as Steve entered the tent.  He was filthy, but the bruise looked better.  Peggy fought the urge to offer support.  She was still angry, though not as angry as she had been.  “Captain,” she said evenly.  “Is there something I can do for you?’

 

He opened his mouth and then shut it again, as if abandoning the pretense of being in her tent for any legitimate reason.  “I was just talking to Stark,” he said quietly.  He frowned, his eyebrows pinching together.  “You told him?  About Zola and Schmidt?”

 

She took a deep breath and set down the stack of reports.  She was going to murder Howard Stark.  Later.  “I did,” she said quietly.

 

He took several steps closer, shaking his head.  “Why?”

 

Peggy arched an eyebrow.  “Afraid he’s going to use me as a lab rat?”

 

“Yes,” Steve swore, then seemed to catch himself.  “Yeah, Peg, I am.”  He shook his head.  “Why would you sign yourself up for that?”

 

That look on Steve’s face ...  He looked at her the same way that day she’d helped him with his proof of concept test on the vibranium shield.  Like someone kicked his puppy.  She pursed her lips together and shook her head.  “The same reason as you.  The greater good.”

 

He shook his head, clearly distressed.  “Are you sick?” he asked quietly.  “Bucky was bad for a day or two, but he seems fine - “

 

“I’m not ill, Steve,” she said quietly.  “I’m just ... taking precautions.”

 

He frowned.  “Taking precautions?”

 

She took a seat on the edge of her desk, glancing up at him.  “What if I’m not as lucky as Sergeant Barnes?” she asked.  “What if whatever they did to me causes me to become a danger to our mission?”

 

He just stared at her.

 

“You and the fellas would do anything _for_ me,” she said gently.  “But what if something needed to be done _about_ me, for everyone’s safety?”

 

She could see the muscles in his jaw tighten.  “And you trust Stark,” he said darkly.  “To do something _about you_.”

 

She laughed mirthlessly and looked away.  “I trust Howard Stark to be completely mercenary and, in this case, at least, completely practical.  I trust him to take any measure necessary to prevent me from jeopardizing the safety of our mission.”

 

“To kill you, you mean,” he said, looking more wounded than Peggy could ever remember him looking.

 

“If need be,” she replied, pushing off the desk, taking several steps to close the distance between them.  “I would prefer my own death to being the cause of others losing their lives.  Surely you understand that.”

 

“Telling Stark was unnecessary,” he tried, unable to look her in the eyes.

 

“You don’t know that, Steve.”

 

They were standing very close together.  He looked down at her, lips pursed together in a frown.  Of all the terrible ideas Peggy Carter ever had in her life, this certainly ranked up there.  But she couldn’t stop herself.  She reached up, pressing her palm against the edge of his jaw.  She could feel his teeth grind together as he looked at her, could hear the sharp intake of his breath.

 

His lips twitched twice before he said, “If it was me, if Erskine’s formula went ... _haywire_ , could you do it?  Could you put me down?”

 

She looked up at him, eyes stinging with tears.  “No,” she whispered, shaking her head.  “That’s why I spoke to Howard.”

 

His fingertips found her hips, resting there lightly.  She blinked quickly, turning her head away, staring blindly at the tent wall as a tear rolled down her cheek.  She was very aware of how close they were standing, how his arms framed her body in a near embrace.

 

She felt him lean in toward her, his lips resting against the shell of her ear as her eyes fluttered shut.  Slowly, she turned her head until they were cheek to cheek, his hands at her waist, her hands grasping his upper arms.  She took a deep, shaky breath and tilted her head back.  

 

The kiss was sweet, slow.  Steve carefully nipped at her lips.  Her hands made their way up his arms, to wrap around his neck.  His arms tightened around her, pulling her closer against his body.  She gasped at the feel of him and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss.  She met him eagerly, her tongue tangling with his.

 

In the distance, a siren sounded.

 

And sounded again.

 

With a muffled curse, Steve broke off the kiss.  They were both breathing hard, their fingertips biting into each other’s skin.

 

Peggy cleared her throat.  “I believe duty calls, Captain.”

 

“Yeah,” he said quietly.

 

She looked up at him and he pressed one last hard kiss against her lips before turning and leaving the tent

 

END CHAPTER


	4. Present / October 1948

**Present Day**

“You knew,” Steve said, staring blindly out the windshield.  They were headed back to his apartment in Brooklyn.  Leaving Stark tower should have made him feel better, but it didn’t.  The relief he typically found in parting company with Tony Stark was nowhere to be found.

 

“You’re going to have to narrow it down,” Natasha said, without taking her eyes off the road.  “I know lots of things.”

 

“About Peggy Carter,” Steve yelled, smacking the dash of the incredibly expensive sports car so hard it cracked, startling them both.  “You knew she was alive.”

 

Natasha didn’t look at him.  “I told you, Cap,” she said quietly.  “You’re better than we deserve.”

 

“You lied, to me,” he said, his voice shaking.  “To my face.  You knew that I believed that every person I’d ever known was dead.  You let me believe that I lost them all.”

 

“You know about Barnes,” Natasha replied quietly.  “Does that help?  Your former best friend is a brainwashed enemy agent who wants to kill you.  Does that make you feel better?”

 

Steve said nothing.  He knew what she meant and he even sort of understood her logic.  Finding out Bucky was alive hadn’t helped anything.  It made Steve feel even more alone.  Bucky was there, in the flesh, but he was broken, unreachable.  But it also gave him hope, hope that he might, one day, be able to get through to Bucky.  Natasha didn’t understand that.

 

“It’s been seventy years, Cap,” Natasha continued.  “Superhuman or not, Peggy Carter is not the woman you knew.”

 

If Peggy was alive, whatever reasons she had for protecting some poor girl - another lab rat - had to be good.

 

Steve didn’t know how or why Natasha knew Peggy.  He wasn’t sure of his own thoughts on Peggy Carter at the moment.  He mourned her, missed her to the depths of his being.  She seemed to symbolize everything he lost in the ice - every missed chance, every lost hope.  The thought that Peggy might actually still be alive was more than he could contemplate.  To his surprise, the thought that she might be alive brought nearly as much pain as the thought that she was dead.  Because if she was alive, why hadn’t she found him?

 

Steve frowned, sinking back in the seat.  “Where is this woman Fury thinks Peggy is protecting?” he asked.  “Is she okay?  With all the finger pointing, has anybody even bothered to check up on her?”

 

Natasha kept her eyes on the road.  “Stark was wrong,” she said.  At Steve’s raised eyebrow, she continued.  “She turned down Fury’s initial job offer.  But she had plenty of time to reconsider.  She’s been a SHIELD agent for years.”

 

Steve was about at the end of his rope with being lied to.  “Anyone I know?”

 

Natasha looked at him.

 

“Are you kidding me?” he demanded, slamming his head back against the headrest.  “Who is it?”

 

“Remember Kate, your not-nurse neighbor?”

 

“Sharon Carter,” Steve said quietly, feeling like the world’s biggest dope.  “Agent 13.”

 

“Hiding in plain sight as Peggy Carter’s grand-niece,” Natasha confirmed.  She looked over at Steve, her lips pulling into a sincere frown.  “She was there to protect you.”

 

“To lie to me, you mean, on Fury’s orders” Steve said, aware he sounded petulant, but too irritated to care.  

 

Natasha shrugged.  “I don’t know her well, but she seems to be a pretty straight arrow.  Not you, but then again, no one is.”

 

“Forgive me if I don’t trust a single thing out of your mouth right now,” Steve said bitterly.

 

“Ouch,” Natasha said in mock hurt.  From the way her lips curved into a smile, Steve knew she wasn’t particularly offended.  “I may withhold information from time to time.  Doesn’t mean the information I do give you isn’t true.”

 

* * *

 

**October 1948**

 

 

“Head of the SSR,” Howard said, whistling softly.  “I always knew you were meant for the big time, kid.”

 

“No thanks to you,” Peggy replied, taking a moment to flick the ash from her cigarette.

 

“Who ya kiddin’?” Howard teased.  “It’s all because o’ me.  If you hadn’t spent so much time draggin’ my ass outta the fire, you wouldn’t have gotten near as much recognition.”

 

Peggy turned away from the two way mirror and glared over her shoulder at Howard.  He raised his hands in mock surrender before sighing and shoving his hands in his pockets, slumping, like even he couldn’t keep up the pretense of being Howard Stark.  

 

Peggy turned back to the mirror, watching the children play in the next room, oblivious to her observation.  She was aware of Howard slowly making his way to the mirror, joining her in watching the children.  Subject 9 looked like any other three year old, if perhaps a bit more rosy cheeked, a bit precocious.  Her little blonde ringlets bounced as she laughed and clapped.

 

“She’s healthy,” Howard said quietly.  “Fit as a fiddle.”  He took a breath.  “Not that I really expected anything less.”

 

“How fit?” Peggy asked him, taking another drag off the cigarette, watching the little girl.  “Abnormally so?”

 

Howard shook his head. “Nah, she won’t raise any flags.  She’s healthy, but not too healthy.  Had pneumonia last spring.  Recovered quickly.  She’s strong, but not too strong.  Doesn’t hurt that all her playmates are at least five years older than her - and boys.  Even if she does hurt ‘em, they’ll never ‘fess up.  She’s smart though, very smart.  You should hear her. She’s been here, what?  A week?  Her American accent is already perfect.  Sharp as a tack, that little girl.”

 

They stood in silence for a long time, watching the dozen children play, guided through various tasks by facilitators trained to assess their abilities.  “She seems happy,” Howard offered cautiously.  “According to the parents.  Their only issue is coming up with new ways to keep her busy, to challenge her.  The mother adores her.  I guess after five boys, they were thrilled for the opportunity to make room for a girl.”

 

“The tests conclude tomorrow, correct?” Peggy asked briskly.

 

“Yeah,” Howard replied quietly.  “Tomorrow, then we ship her back across the pond.”

 

“Good,” Peggy said.  She gave Howard a tight smile and headed for the door.  She paused for a moment, her hand on the doorknob.  “Howard, no one can ever know about her, not even the SSR.”

 

“I know, Peg.”


	5. Present / After Bucky's Fall

**Present Day**

 

Steve stood in his small, galley kitchen, leaning his hip against the countertop, staring at nothing.  Peggy Carter was alive.  As angry as he was at Natasha, some part of him knew she was telling him the truth.  Fury as much as told Stark that Peggy was _gifted_ like both him and Bucky, that Peggy was something more than strictly human.  Steve had no idea what to do with that information.  He knew Peggy had been at the mercy of Zola and Schmidt.  He remembered those cold nights, huddled in the dark, when he almost lost her, like they were yesterday.  

 

He remembered waking up from the ice to learn that he had lost her, along with the rest of his world.  

 

And now he was back to square one.

 

Worse than square one because he knew there had to be a reason Peggy hadn’t let him know she was alive.

 

And he still had to deal with Agent 13, get to the bottom of who Sharon Carter really was and what she had to do with Bucky’s missing records.

 

He turned to Natasha, watching as she sat on one of the barstools in his kitchen, quiet and patient as always.  “How’d SHIELD manage it?” he asked, hating himself for asking.  He didn’t trust her to be completely truthful with him.

 

Natasha raised her eyebrows in question.

 

“Agent 13,” he said.  “I assume there’s some file stamped Project Phoenix or something with all the information about how they used my old blood samples and gene splicing or dna extraction to deconstruct Erskine’s formula.  I hope she didn’t end up with side effects like Banner.”

 

Natasha’s mouth curved into a mirthless smile.  “You know Occam’s Razor?”

 

“Sure,” Steve said blandly.  “The idea that the simplest answer is usually the right one.”

 

“I never got the details, but my impression is that Agent 13 is your daughter in the traditional, probably vanilla, missionary, sense of the word.”

 

Steve’s jaw clenched.  “I already told you.  That’s not possible.”

 

“I believe you believe that,” Natasha said, meeting his gaze evenly.  “I do.”

 

“You just don’t believe it’s actually true,” Steve said, easily reading between the lines.

 

“No,” she agreed, shaking her head.  “I don’t.”

 

“Now you’re starting to sound like Stark.  Why don’t you believe it?  I’m pretty damn sure I’d know if I had a kid.”

 

Natasha took a deep breath and hopped off the stool.  She pressed her lips together tightly, frowning.  Crossing her arms over her chest, she gave him a hard look, as if regretting what she was about to say.  “I know because Peggy Carter isn’t just protecting _your_ daughter, Rogers.  She’s protecting _her_ daughter.”

 

Steve blinked.  “Fury told you this?”

 

Natasha shook her head.  “Fury doesn’t know anything for sure.  He suspects you and Carter had more of a relationship than either of you are owning up to.  Especially after your reaction back there.”  She took a deep breath and frowned, clearly debating something with herself.  

 

Finally, she said, “Sharon Carter was born after the war.  She was hidden for decades under an assumed name with a fake family, until she was old enough to hold her own.  She’s like Stark said, very slow to age.  Peggy Carter finally claimed her in the mid 90s, saying Sharon was her grand-niece.  I know there has to be a story there, but I don’t know what it is.  In my experience, people don’t do an about face after fifty years without a hell of a lot of provocation.  Peggy Carter has as many secrets as Fury, probably more.  And she’s every bit as dangerous.”

 

For a long time, the only sound was the traffic outside.

 

“I notice you’re not denying the possibility that Sharon is yours anymore,” Natasha said softly.

 

“It was just - “ Steve started, then caught himself and fell silent.

 

“Missionary,” Natasha offered with a grin.

 

Steve’s glare was colder than the inside of Schmidt’s bomber.  “Don’t.  Just don’t.”

 

* * *

 

**November 1944**

 

“Where is he?” Peggy snapped at the young soldier, not bothering to clarify who he was.  For months she’d endured false accusations that she and Steve were lovers.  None of it was true.  A single kiss did not qualify them as lovers.  But she no longer cared what it might look like.  Career be damned.  She’d bolted out of a meeting with two generals to get here.  She saw the report about Barnes.  She had to find Steve.

 

The corporal’s mouth worked like a fish, though no sound issued.  “I don’t know,” he managed to stammer.  He pointed to the door behind himself.  “Colonel Phillips is in with Zola.  I don’t know where Captain Rogers went.”

 

“Dammit,” Peggy swore, grabbing her trenchcoat and heading for the door.  She had a fairly good idea of where he had gone.

 

***

 

“I can’t get drunk,” Steve said, glancing at her as she entered the shell of a room.  It was all that remained of the pub that had been the Howling Commandos regular haunt in London.  The bombings had reduced most of it to rubble.  “Did you know that?”

 

She ignored his attempt at chitchat, crossing the burnt out room to stand next to him.  She’d done this once before, stood next to him when he believed Bucky had been killed.  But this time, it was so much worse.  This time it wasn’t a guess.  Bucky was gone.  Steve watched it happen.  She could feel how much he was blaming himself.

 

He looked up at her, cheeks wet with tears.  “Did you know?” he asked again, holding the empty glass.

 

She shook her head and leaned down, bracing her hands on his shoulders as she pressed a hard kiss against his lips.  She had no idea what he would do.  She half expected him to shove her away.  But he didn’t.  He paused and then suddenly grabbed her, like a drowning man clutching a life preserver, pulling her into his lap.  A shudder went through his frame, as if he was just realizing what was happening and he kissed her harder, his hands roaming beneath her coat, skimming over her back.  

 

It could have been Steve.  Peggy knew that.  If Steve had the choice, it would have been him at the bottom of that ravine, rather than Barnes.  Steve was strong, he was fast, but he wasn’t inhuman.  His body would have broken on the rocks just like Barnes’.

 

For months on end, she had attempted to keep him at arm’s length.  She’d resented the whispers, the insinuation that she was warming his bunk to advance her own career.  So she’d fought herself, tried to ensure that their relationship was completely professional.  There had been moments of weakness; the trip back to base after her rescue from Hydra, the night after his failed attempt to make decisions on her behalf.  And for what?  None of it mattered.  Everyone still whispered, assumed that they were lovers, all the while they were both alone and hurting.  There was no point to any of it.  She could have lost him today without ever letting him know how much he meant to her.

 

She threaded the fingers of her left hand through his hair, kissing him deeply as her right hand worked at his tie until it came loose from his collar.  She quickly undid several buttons, pulling his shirt open as she broke off the kiss and nipped along his jaw, then down his neck.  He pushed at her trenchcoat and she obligingly pulled her arms free of both the coat and her jacket.  He kissed her again, hard and deep, their tongues tangling wetly.  

 

She shifted in his lap, straddling him, forcing her skirt up so the material bunched around her waist and thighs, exposing her garters and the tops of her stockings to the chilly night air.  He pulled on her hips, seating her more tightly against him and they both groaned at the feel of him, hard, pressed so close to her.  She rocked against him, breaking off the kiss to throw her head back and pant harshly.  He grabbed the material of her shirt at her shoulders and pulled.  She heard the rending of the material and felt the cold air on her chest.

 

Her brassiere wasn’t the height of fashion, but it didn’t look much like Steve cared.  He stared at the curved mounds of her breasts, mouth slightly agape.  Slowly, his hands made their way along her ribcage, coming to rest with his thumbs just tickling the underside of her breasts.  He looked at her, his expression hesitant.  Holding his gaze, she reached up and pulled the straps down her arms, causing the cups to loosen.

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Steve hissed under his breath.  He leaned forward, kissing along her collarbone as his left hand cupped her breast through the material.  His right hand pulled the other cup down, until her breast was completely exposed.  He touched her gently and she moaned, pushing into his palm. It was all the encouragement he needed.  He kissed along the top of her breast, kneading her gently, then cupped her, lifting her breast so he could pull the taut nipple into his mouth.  She hissed, the fingers of her left hand threading through his hair, holding him against her, encouraging him, as her right hand clutched his shoulder.  

 

She rocked her hips against his, enthralled by the feel of him.  He shifted, splaying his legs wider as his left hand abandoned her breast so he could grab her rump, abetting her rocking, his fingertips biting into her firm backside.  

 

His mouth finally abandoned her breast and she kissed him again, her tongue brushing against his in the same rhythm as their hips.  They were like that for interminable minutes, rocking, moaning, kissing, grinding.  She finally broke off the kiss, scooting herself back.  He stared at her, obviously afraid she was calling a ceasefire, but he needn't have worried.   Her fingers found his belt and she quickly unbuckled it before going to work on the fly of his trousers.  His breath hissed through his teeth as her fingers brushed against his rigid cock while she worked open the fly.  He helped her, shifting awkwardly, to work the material of his trousers and boxers down his hips.  

 

Peggy kissed him again, scooting against him pressing her bare breasts to his chest as her hand grasped his cock, slowly stroking him from root to tip.  His hands made their way up her thighs, stopping for a moment to linger on the spot where her garters attached to her stockings, then higher, forcing the material of her skirt and slip up around her waist.  His hands were under her skirt, clasping her backside.  She released his sex, moving to grind against him again, frustrated that they weren’t both bare.  She put her hands on his shoulders and moved to stand, but Steve shook his head, grabbing the flimsy material of her panties and pulling until it ripped, leaving her bare.

 

They both stopped for a moment, looking into each others eyes, both breathing hard.  It was clear that this isn’t the way either of them had imagined this moment, and yet, this was the moment.  Slowly, Peggy grasped his sex again, levering herself up as she kissed him.  It wasn’t the most graceful moment ever, but she pressed him against herself and slowly sat down, groaning at the feel of his hard length sliding inside her.

 

“Peggy,” he breathed, wrapping his arms around her.  

 

She looked into his eyes.  “I love you,” she said, grinning foolishly and probably a little sadly.

 

His expression was so open, so trusting.  “Peggy, I -”

 

She kissed him again and rocked her hips, earning a deep groan from him.  His hands found her hips and together they moved her against him, shallow, then deep.  It had been a long time since she had done this and she was certain it had never felt like this.  She had never wanted someone so badly, she had never been so excited by her partner’s pleasure.  

 

He groaned again, his eyes shut tightly as he concentrated on moving her.  She cupped the back of his head, her fingernails scratching along his scalp.  Fucking hell he felt so good, so hard.  The idea that she could reduce him to this level of concentration was humbling.  He was close, she knew.  He was trying to hold off for her, which excited her more.  She hadn’t even been aware that she was so close, but the next time he pulled her down, burying himself inside her, the wave of pleasure started.  She threw her head back, moaning loudly as she clutched him to her.  

 

He kept her moving, kept her rocking as he said her name over and over and then he was still, his body rigid for a long moment before he released a shuddering breath, holding her close.

 

They were like that for long moments, breathing hard, holding one another.  He was still inside her when he hugged her close and said, “I love you, Peggy Carter.”

 

She couldn’t help it, she smiled.

 

***

 

They made it back to her tiny flat and past her nosy landlady, but they didn’t make it to the bed.  Steve took her on the floor of her parlor, hands and knees, hard and fast, but still attentive.  She shouldn’t have been shocked.  He was nothing if not observant and quick on his feet.  He learned in moments what kind of touches she liked, what excited her and he delighted in hearing her moan for him.  

 

She was going to have bruises in the morning and she absolutely did not care.  As they were catching their breaths, they finally managed to completely shrug out of their clothes.  Peggy’s were considerably worse for the wear, and in some cases, flat out missing.  

 

She threw Steve a pillow and the blankets from her bed as she headed for the loo.  “I need a moment,” she said as she walked, shamelessly naked, into the tiny, cramped space and closed the door.

 

She pulled on the chain to turn on the light and stared at herself in the water spotted mirror.  She looked a mess, hair and lipstick all askew.  She quickly washed her face and brushed her hair before tending to other needs.  When she returned to her small parlor, Steve was exactly where she had left him, lying on the threadbare carpet, half covered by her bedspread.  He simply watched her, obviously enamored of her nudity.  She rolled her eyes at him and joined him on the floor.  Her head had barely touched the pillow and he was kissing her.

 

They didn’t do anything more than kiss for a very long time.  Peggy knew she was going to be covered in whisker burn come morning, along with the bruises.  Steve finally broke off the kiss, sighing as he flopped onto his back, pulling her against his chest.  He stared blindly up at the ceiling.

 

She traced her fingers over his chest, coming to rest with the center of her palm over his heart.  “I’m so sorry about Bucky,” she said quietly.

 

He squeezed her tightly, but didn’t reply.  She knew he held himself responsible.

 

Pushing herself up on one elbow, she looked at Steve.  “Allow Bucky the dignity of his choice,” she said softly.  “He damn well thought you were worth it.”

 

Steve looked at her, lips pursed tightly together.  He was still blaming himself, but she also knew that he heard the truth in her words.  

 

The knock on the door startled both.  Peggy got to her feet, wrapping the sheet around her body as she cracked open the door.  The courier stood in the dim light of the hallway, holding out a sealed letter.  Peggy took it without a word and pushed the door shut.  

 

She leaned back against the door, opening the letter and quickly scanning it.  She frowned, looking at Steve.  “Colonel Phillips must have managed to get quite a lot out of Dr. Zola,” she said.  “We have a briefing at 0730.”

 

Steve glanced at the clock on her mantle.  It was nearly midnight.  He pushed himself into a sitting position.  “Maybe I should - “

 

“Oh, shut up, Steve,” Peggy said with a frown.  “You’re not leaving.”

 

He seemed relieved and sank back down onto the floor.  He opened his mouth and then closed it before saying, “I thought maybe you had a fella at the door.”

 

She stared at him for a long moment before shaking her head.  “Despite how it may seem to you,” she said.  “I do not make a habit of mounting Captains in bombed out pubs.  Nor of bringing them home.”

 

“I didn’t - “ he started quickly.

 

She held up her hand, forestalling his reply as she joined him on the floor.  Her expression softened.  “I love you, Steve,” she said with deliberate slowness.  “There’s no one else.”  She knew it was as hard for him to believe her as it was hard for her to say it.  But it was true and it deserved to be said.  

 

She looked away, glad for the deeply shadowed room.  Somehow it made it easier to be truthful.  “I’ve had other entanglements,” she said quietly.  “Fleeting romances.”  She took a deep breath.  “But nothing like this.  No one like you.”

 

She looked at him and he nodded, reaching for her hand.  “Me either,” he said.

 

She let him pull her down to the ground and against his side.  He was so warm.  She buried her nose in the juncture of his shoulder and neck.

 

“I, uh,” he started.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t even think to use a - “

 

She pulled back and looked at him.  He swallowed thickly.  “A Johnny?” she asked.

 

He nodded.

 

She sighed.  “Hardly necessary.”

 

“Huh?”

 

She looked at him and then away quickly, frowning.  This was the last thing she wanted to discuss.  It wasn’t even an issue right now.  They had to actually live through the war first.  They had yet to have an actual relationship.  Mind blowing sex was fantastic, but it did not a relationship make.  Even if they did love one another.

 

Peggy cleared her throat.  “Howard did some preliminary research, trying to figure out what Schmidt and Zola did to me.  He cross referenced my results with samples from you and Bucky.”

 

“And?” Steve asked.

 

She shrugged.  “He said he doesn’t think I’ll ever be able to have children.  Something about hormone levels, basal body temperature.  I tuned out most of the details.”  She took a deep breath and then pressed on.  “Not that I planned on having children, especially not when one never knows if they’ll be breathing from one day to the next.”

 

Steve looked pained, on many levels, though, she suspected, more for her than himself.  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

 

She shrugged again.  “As far as Howard could tell, it seemed that Bucky and I were rather in the same boat.”  She pursed her lips together.  “Neither of us seemed to have acquired any of the beneficial outcomes you experienced.  Infertility aside, Howard couldn’t determine much of any effect on me at all.”

 

“So you don’t run hotter?” Steve said, the barest hint of teasing in his voice.

 

Peggy frowned at him. “Hardly,” she said.  “If anything I’m even colder now.  Howard thinks my base body temperature may have actually dropped several degrees.”

 

Steve laughed mirthlessly, dragging a hand across his whisker rough face.  “We’re quite the pair.”

 

Peggy arched an eyebrow.  “Indeed.”  She sighed, hating herself for what she was about to say.  “I hope this information isn’t a ... _disappointment_ to you.”

 

“Peggy,” he said seriously, “you could never disappoint me, no matter how hard you tried.”

 

“I’m being serious,” she said tightly, pride stung at his blase response.

 

He pressed a soft kiss to her lips and then pulled back.  “I’m being serious too.  I love you.  Every bit of this is beyond my wildest dreams.”  Her expression softened and he pulled her close, looking down at her.  “I was 4F, the guy girls didn’t want to dance with because they were afraid of stepping on him.”

 

She swatted lightly at his chest.  “You’re hardly 4F anymore,” she said.  “You have countless numbers of willing female companions.”

 

He shrugged, his expression sobering.  “My outside changed, but inside I’m still that guy.  Those girls never would have given me the time of day.  But you -  You are the most beautiful, most amazing woman I’ve ever seen.  And you gave me the time of day before all this.  You’ll always be my best girl.”

  
END CHAPTER


	6. Present / Aftermath of the Crash of the Valkyrie

**Present Day**

“The blonde?” Sam asked, tilting his head down so he could look at Steve over the top of his sunglasses.

 

“Yeah,” Steve said, trying to sound offhand.  “Agent 13.  I need to find her.”

 

“I thought she worked for Fury,” Sam replied.  “Why don’t you ask him?”

 

Steve frowned.  “I’m not sure anyone technically works for Fury right now.  And I don’t want to ask him.”

 

Sam shook his head, laughing.  “Dude, you work with some of the sneakiest spies ever born, Tony I-invented-Google fucking Stark, and an actual demigod, and you’re asking me about finding this girl?”

 

Steve sighed, sinking back in the lawn chair.  He and Sam were sitting on the roof of Steve’s building, having a few beers - not that they had any effect on Steve.  It was late afternoon.  It had been three days since he kicked Natasha out of his kitchen and he was still angry, unsettled.  He didn’t feel like asking any of the Avengers for anything.  He remembered how Banner had once described himself, like a nerve, exposed.  That’s how Steve felt.  And he didn’t have any desire to increase his exposure by asking the team for help.

 

Sam leaned back, hooking one arm over the back of his chair as he studied Steve.  “What’s up with her?” he asked.  “I know you’re older than dirt, but I assume you don’t need my help getting her number.”

 

“No, I don’t need your help getting her number,” Steve replied irritably.  He was still smarting from Natasha’s jabs about his love life, or rather the lack thereof.  He was great at taking abuse, but he was getting really tired of being the butt of everyone’s jokes.

 

They both turned at the sound of the door to the roof slamming shut.  Interruptions were to be expected as this was a common area for the building.  Several other tenants had set up gardening plots in boxes, which reminded Steve of Victory Gardens.  If Victory Gardens had contained Japanese eggplants.  Which they hadn't.

 

As Steve glanced up, however, he saw immediately that this wasn’t another of the building’s tenants.  He couldn’t move as he watched her walk along the uneven patio pavers, her shiny red heels clicking lightly.  He was only dimly aware of Sam standing up so fast it sent his chair tipping over backwards.

 

She smiled, her lips a perfect carmine red as she removed her sunglasses, folding them and putting them in the red patent clutch she carried.  “Gentlemen.”

 

“Ma’am,” Sam replied crisply.

 

Steve just looked at her, unable to say anything.  He would recognize her anywhere, but she wasn’t like he remembered.  Her navy blue dress was casual, summery, modern, but with what Natasha would call a _retro twist_.  Her hair was longer, messy waves shot through with different shades of brunette and blonde.  Her nails, like her lips and shoes were red, but the rest of her makeup was understated, classic, classy.  Even at a glance, he knew - she was of _this_ time.  She wasn’t like him, a lost soul, untethered.

 

Slowly, he stood, staring at the familiar stranger.  Peggy didn’t take her eyes off him as she addressed Sam.  “Mr. Wilson, if I could have a moment alone with Captain Rogers, please.”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” Sam replied, making for the door.  As soon as he was behind Peggy, and therefore, out of her line of sight, he turned and mouthed ‘ _what the hell_ ’ to Steve.  

 

Steve ignored Sam, concentrating on Peggy.  He heard the roof access door slam shut in the distance. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked around, frowning.  Mostly to prevent himself from reaching for her.  She didn’t look like she would welcome a hug, or, really, anything from him.

 

They stood there for what felt like forever and he finally sighed.  There was no point in being vague.  “I was told you were dead,” he said evenly.

 

She arched an eyebrow, perhaps shocked by his directness.  “I was told the same about you, Captain.  And look at us now.”

 

He hated this.  He hated every single thing about this.  How was it possible that he was standing here, staring at Peggy, the woman he loved, and she was so unreachable that he might as well be dead?   _She’s not the woman you knew._

 

Steve reached over and righted Sam’s chair, offering it to Peggy.  She took a seat, graceful as ever, hands folded in her lap.  Slowly, he took his own seat.  He stared out at the skyline, frowning.  “I guess Natasha called you.”

 

“No one _calls_ me,” she replied evenly, though the reproach in her voice was clear.  “They report.”

 

He looked over at her, overcome with the unreality of the situation.  From his perspective, the last time he saw her was only a couple of years ago.  They had been lovers and _friends_.  And now ... he didn’t know what they were.  He didn’t know what she was.  He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.  

 

Peggy wasn’t actively trying to kill him, so in that respect, this was slightly better than his run-in with Bucky.  But unlike Bucky, she didn’t seem to be out of her mind.  She just seemed ... _cold_.  Colder than him.  And he’d been frozen for seventy years.

 

They were silent a long time.  Finally she got to the point, asking, “Have you seen Sharon?”

 

That’s why she was here, protecting an asset.  He shrugged.  “Pretty sure you already know I haven’t.”  He turned and looked at her.  “Did you really redact Bucky’s medical files?”

 

Her lips pursed together and she leaned back in the creaky lawn chair, crossing her legs.  “I did,” she said.  “Though I shouldn’t have bothered.”

 

“Stark thinks someone’s trying to replicate Erskine’s formula.  Grow an army of super soldiers.”

 

“Someone’s always trying to replicate Erskine’s formula,” she replied dryly, sounding very bored.  “It never works.  Nothing in Barnes’ file is going to help anyone reverse engineer anything.  Tony’s chasing ghosts.  He’s never going to find what he needs.”

 

“So why hide the records?” he pressed.

 

She took a deep breath and looked at him.  For the barest moment, he thought he saw a glimpse of her, _his_ Peggy.  But the flicker was gone in an instant.  “You already know why I hid them,” she said.  “To make it impossible for anyone to confirm the fact that Sharon Carter isn’t James Barnes’ daughter.”

 

He took a deep breath, not at all sure he was going to like the answer.  “So whose daughter is she?”

 

“Mine,” Peggy replied evenly, meeting and holding his gaze.  “And yours.”

 

He couldn’t process what she’d just said.  Even with everything Natasha had said, he hadn’t really believed it was possible.  “Mine?  You said - “

 

“I was wrong,” was her very terse reply.  She looked away and then back to him.  “That night.  After Barnes’ death.”  She took a deep breath.  “She’s yours.   _Ours_.”

 

Steve turned, staring into the distance at nothing.  He dragged a hand roughly through his hair.  A daughter.   _His_ daughter.

 

Steve was an orphan, alone in his own time and alone now.  Lately, he’d been more alone than he thought it was possible for a human to be.  But now Bucky was back.  And Peggy was back.  And he just found out he had a daughter.  “You coulda told a guy.”

 

“You were dead.”

 

He turned and frowned at her, there had been something in her voice, some minute crack.  Pain, an accusation - something.  But looking at her, she looked as polished as ever, remote.  

 

“ _After_ ,” he clarified shortly.  “After they thawed me out, you coulda told me  It’s been years.  I’ve had time to learn how to work a goddamn DVR.”

 

She looked away, smoothing a non-existent wrinkle out of her skirt.  Was that guilt?  Maybe.  He wouldn’t bet the farm on it.  

 

“I left that up to Sharon,” she said.  “I thought she might have told you.  She spent months shadowing you for Fury.”

 

He shook his head, frowning.  “Didn’t say a word.”  He caught himself.  “Oh, wait.  I take it back.  She did mention her nosy aunt a time or two.”

 

Peggy sighed.  

 

Steve turned and looked at her, taking note of the way her lips pursed together.  She looked irritated.  And he had the distinct impression that there weren’t many things on this earth that were allowed to irritate Peggy Carter.  Curious, he asked, “You really didn’t know that Sharon didn’t tell me who she was?”

 

“Sharon doesn’t tell me a great many things,” Peggy replied tightly.  “I try to stay out of her affairs, as much as possible.”

 

Steve thought back to Natasha’s comment.   _In my experience, people don’t do an about face after fifty years without a hell of a lot of provocation._  “As much as possible?”

 

Peggy smiled wryly.  “There are times when it is impossible for me to remain uninvolved.”

 

“Like with Bucky’s records.”

 

“Yes,” Peggy confirmed.  “Like with Bucky’s records.”  

 

There was something in the way she said his name, something decidedly uncomfortable.  As if she didn’t like thinking of him as Bucky.  It hadn’t slipped Steve’s attention that she called him Barnes earlier.  According to Fury, she’d spent the last half a century trying to kill him.

 

Steve was quiet for a long time, contemplating.  “So you and Sharon don’t get along?”

 

“Oh, nothing of the sort,” Peggy said.  “We’re perfectly civil to one another, provided I have absolutely no interference in her life.”

 

Steve stared at her, shocked at the depth of bitterness in her words.  Natasha was right.  This wasn’t the Peggy Carter he knew.  “What happened?”

 

She looked at him, her expression unreadable.  “Nothing happened, Steve, other than seventy years of living.  Sharon has made it clear that there is no room in her life for me.  I thought perhaps there might be room in her life for you.”

 

“Why did you find me?” Steve asked, shaking his head.  “Why now?”  
  


“Given what’s happening, our meeting again was inevitable,” she said tightly, clearly unhappy about that fact.  “I prefer our reunion be on my terms, in my time.  I’m sure between Tony and Fury, one of them would have arranged some chance encounter.  I already know you don’t enjoy being a dancing monkey.  I’ve found that I don’t particularly care for it either.”

 

She stood up and Steve just sat there, watching her.  She removed a piece of paper from her clutch and handed it to him, careful to make sure they didn’t actually touch.  “It’s Sharon’s contact information,” she said.  “If you want it.”

 

* * *

** December 1944 **

shortly after the demise of the Red Skull

 

 

Peggy could hear the muffled altercation through the door.  

 

“Young man, this is not allowed.  I will summon the authorities.”

 

“Aw, shut it, lady,” Dugan snapped.  “I’m not a young man and I am the authorities.”  He pounded on the door again.  “Come on, Carter, open up.”

 

There was more muffled arguing and then the sound of a key in the lock.  Whether Dugan managed to convince her landlady to hand over the key, or simply bullied it out of the woman, Peggy never knew.

 

Dugan, flanked by Morita, entered her tiny flat and closed the door behind themselves.  There were no lights on inside and the dim winter sun outside wasn’t much help.  Morita poked his head in her bedroom and then turned.  “Dum Dum.  In here.”

 

Peggy knew Dugan was standing at the door to her bedroom, but she didn’t bother turning to look at him.  He entered the room and stood at the side of her bed for several long moments before taking a seat next to her on the mattress, gathering the quilt around her.  “Jesus H. Christ, Carter,” he said.  “It’s freezing in here.”

 

She finally turned and looked up at him.  He motioned for Morita to set a box in the corner.  She glanced at it and was struck anew with horror as she realized it was Steve’s footlocker.  He had no next of kin.  All he had was her.  And she had been so profoundly inadequate.

 

She bit down on her lip as tears rolled down her cheeks and into the pillow.  She hated this.  She hated everything.  She hated being weak, especially in front of the fellas.  But she couldn’t help it, she missed Steve so damn much.  All she needed was another chance, another chance to be quicker, to find a solution.  But she didn’t have another chance.  And she never would get one.  Just like Steve.

 

She pulled her knees up to her chest, curling herself into a little ball on the mattress, unable to stop herself from sobbing raggedly.  “Ah, damn, Carter,” Dugan said softly, he reached for her, pulling her up into a sitting position.  She wanted to shove him away, to yell at him to mind himself, but she was physically incapable of doing anything other than sobbing.

 

He pulled her close, rocking her gently, one big hand smoothing her hair.  She sobbed so hard her body ached with it.  At some point, she was aware that he was crying too, which somehow made her feel better.  Her sobs finally trailed off, but she sat there, leaning heavily against Dugan.  Dimly, she was aware of Morita turning on lights, setting the kettle on to boil and generally looking every bit as miserable as she felt.

 

“We miss him too,” Dugan said quietly.

 

Carter smiled a watery smile against his shoulder.  She knew it was true.  The fellas all missed Steve.  They missed Bucky too.  They’d both lost two brothers in the space of a week.  The fact that the Red Skull was gone did little to quell the loss.  Victory wasn’t a victory if it couldn’t be shared.

 

Peggy had kept it together for a few days after Steve went missing.  Colonel Philips and Morita had both been tactful enough to look the other way as she finally exited Schmidt’s control room.  She’d been in a daze for days.  

 

She went to the Stork club on Saturday.  8pm, on the dot.

 

She hadn’t expected him to be there.

 

But some part of her still had faith, faith that he would do the impossible and return to her.

 

She stayed until closing, then she went back to her cold flat and climbed into bed and hadn’t left.  

 

Steve was gone.  

 

He was dead.  

 

And she was alone.

 

* * *

 

** January 1945 **

  
  


“Sir, if I might have a word.”

 

Colonel Phillips turned and studied her for a moment before handing the stack of files to his clerk.  “Take a walk, Corporal.”  He looked at her and then motioned to the chair on the opposite side of his desk.  “Agent Carter.”

 

She sat down, perched on the edge of the seat, hands twined together in her lap.  “Sir, I, uh - “

 

“Need a leave of absence?” he offered, his gruff voice quiet.

 

She looked up at him, mouth slightly agape.  She tried to think of something to say.

 

“You look like hell, Carter,” he said, not unkindly.  “Take a break.  Go freelance for Stark for a while.  The California weather will probably agree with you.”

 

“Sir, but the war - “

 

“Will grind on without you, Carter,” he said, sounding every bit at exhausted as she felt.  “Besides,” he said, “you’re going to start showing soon and that’s going to raise a hell of a lot of questions that I’m sure you don’t want to answer.”

 

Her mouth worked as she searched for words.  “How did you - “

 

“I didn’t,” he said.  “Not until right now.”

 

Her face fell and she rubbed her temple with her hand.  How could she expect to exceed in espionage if she couldn’t even see through such an obvious feint as that?

 

“Look,” he continued, “anything associated with Rogers is being rounded up, stamped Top Secret and locked in vaults.  The Allies are desperate to recreate his success.  It would be a good idea if you and your ... _project_ , weren’t on show for them to find.”

 

She sat in the chair, staring at her hands.

 

“So I’m sorry to hear about your mother, Carter,” Phillips said loudly.  “But I understand.  She needs the highest level of care available.  Your leave of absence is granted.  Try to enjoy California as much as you can, given the circumstances.”

 

“Thank you, sir.”

 

END CHAPTER

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is very much a MCU story. I'm basing my continuity, as much as I can, on what is contained in the movies (and Agent Carter and Agents of SHIELD). From the movies, what I can tell is that the space between Bucky's (presume) death and Steve's (presumed) death appears to be a day or two, a week at most. Looking through dates in the movie, they list Bucky's death as winter 1944 and they don't announce that Steve is missing until March 1945. I don't buy it being 3 or 4 months between those events.
> 
> So ... in the universe of this story, Steve went missing only a couple of days after Bucky. The government didn't announce he was missing until months later.
> 
> ***
> 
> I'm trying to label everything so that the timeline is easier to follow. 
> 
> For the most part, everything in the past starts with Carter being found in the Hydra base and progresses linearly from there. 
> 
> The same with the 'Present Day' timeline (though it's Present Day prior to Avengers: AoU). 
> 
> The one exception to this rule, so far, is the 1948 sequence where Howard and Peggy are watching the 3 year old Sharon.


	7. August 1945 / Present Day

**August 1945**

 

“It’s a girl, sir.  Congratulations.”

 

“I, uh, what?   _No_.” Howard tried to dance out of the way, but the young nurse deposited the child firmly in his arms.  Giving him a tight, vaguely disapproving, smile, the nurse left the room.  Howard looked dumbly down at the little bundle.  It looked like a little pink raisin, eyes tightly closed, lips a perfect cupid’s bow, cheeks that looked part pufferfish.  He assumed it was asleep.  He looked up.  “Uh, Peg.”

 

She didn’t turn.  She was propped up in the bed, staring blindly out the window at the Pacific ocean.  

 

Howard looked back to the little raisin.  It gurgled.  He frowned at it and slightly bounced his knees several times.  This was what people did with kids, wasn’t it?  He had vague memories of his cousin, Martha, doing this with some of her kids.  “Peggy?”

 

She still didn’t turn to look at him.  Sighing, Howard left the room in search of the nurse.  He finally found her and convinced her to take the raisin back to the nursery.  His assurances that he hadn’t been involved in the raisin’s procreation didn’t seem to be getting him anywhere with the nurse, so he gave up.  It was going to cost him plenty to keep this out of the papers.

 

He entered the room again and walked around the bed, placing himself between Peggy and her view.  She finally looked at him.  He rubbed his hands together awkwardly.  “She’s, uh, beautiful, Peg.  Beautiful,” he said with a smile.  That’s what new mothers wanted to hear, wasn’t it?

 

Peggy looked away.  Howard frowned.  Peggy had been in the hospital for months, on forced bed rest, doctor’s orders.  It had been a very difficult pregnancy, according to the intel from Jarvis.  Despite Howard’s promises to visit, he’d never made it.  He convinced himself that it was for the best, that it would keep Peggy off reporters’ - and everyone else’s - radar.  Now he just felt like a heel.  She, clearly, was not okay.  According to Jarvis she hadn’t even informed her own mother about the baby.

 

Howard dragged a hand through his hair and took a seat by the bed.  “I, uh, finally called off the search,” he said quietly.

 

“I know.”

 

He raised his eyebrows and then realized that his presence along must have spoken volumes.  He’d spent the last ten months combing every square inch of Rogers’ last known trajectory and so far all they’d found was that damn cube.  No sign of Captain America or the bomber.  

 

“What, uh are you going to name her?” he asked, trying to concentrate on the present.

 

“Sharon,” she replied.

 

“Sharon,” he repeated.  “Family name?”

 

“No,” she said dully.  “It has no significance at all.”

 

Howard frowned.  “I don’t get - “

 

“Two of Erskine’s assistants have been murdered in the last six months,” she said quietly.  “I thought when the war ended that it would be over, but  - “  She sighed.  “It’s only going to get worse.  Tensions with the Soviets are mounting.  Intelligence agencies across the globe are desperate to recreate Erskine’s success.  We weren’t even able to recover Barnes’ body.  The Soviets beat us to it.  That’s how valuable the research was.  A failed experiment was worth salvaging a dead man out of the bottom of that frozen ravine.”

 

“I already told ya, Peg, no one knows what happened to you.  I got rid of all my records.  Rogers’ team, they’ll never ‘fess up.”

 

Peggy looked him right in the eye.  “I’m not worried about me, Howard.”

 

His eyes automatically darted to the door, to where he’d taken the baby.  The baby that no one but he, Jarvis and Phillips knew about.  He swallowed thickly.

 

“You know who her father is,” Peggy said firmly.  “You never asked, but you’re not an idiot.”

 

“I didn’t want to know,” Howard replied tightly.  “I figured it was your business.  And his.  You didn’t need me prying.”

 

“That, at least, is true,” she said, looking back out the window.  “If anyone found out about Schmidt’s experiments on me, I would be a target worth killing for.  The same would be true of my daughter.  But she’s not just my daughter, she’s  - “  she trailed off, swallowing thickly.

 

“She’d be worth more than her weight in gold,” Howard said sadly, finally realizing why Peggy was so distant.  He leaned forward in the chair, bracing his elbows on his thighs, cradling his hand in his head.  “You’re going to give her away, aren’t you?”  He looked up, but she wouldn’t meet his gaze.  She stared at the ceiling, tears rolling down her cheeks.

 

“I’ve been over this a thousand different ways,” she said thickly.  “But there’s no way.  With me, her life is in danger.  It’s not just a question of having a normal life - which she wouldn’t have - it’s not having a life at all.  If someone found her, they would - ”  She didn’t need to finish the sentence.  Howard knew exactly what she feared.  The war taught him a lot about just how depraved humanity could be, especially in pursuit of something as valuable as a working copy of Erskine’s formula.

 

“I, uh, know a guy.  Who can make arrangements,” Howard offered.

 

* * *

**  
Present Day**

 

Steve groaned, lowering himself to the floor of the quinjet, next to Banner, who looked every bit as bad as Steve felt.  He sat there, trying to take a mental inventory of his injuries when a silver pouch was suddenly thrust into his line of sight.  He looked up at Tony.

 

“Blueberry?”  He didn’t wait for a reply.  “Antioxidant rich.  An older fellow like yourself should really look into it.”

 

“Thanks, but I’m fine,” Steve replied, frowning.

 

Tony paced around the enclosed space.  He typically preferred to fly solo, but his suit had been damaged badly so he was forced to catch a ride with everyone else who wasn’t Thor.  “So you have a date.  I guess,” Tony said, looking down at Steve.  “Is it a date, isn’t it?”

 

Steve just stared at him mutely.

 

“With Sharon Carter,” he said.  “Tomorrow.  3pm.  Museum.  Seems very ... ye olde timey courtshipish.  Are you going to take her flowers?”  

 

Steve still didn’t say anything.  He didn’t bother asking how Tony knew.  Over the years that he’d known Stark, they had mostly reached an uneasy truce.  But that truce apparently didn’t extend to any situation that Tony thought involved Bucky.  Steve understood why.  The Winter Soldier was implicated in the murder of Tony’s parents, Howard and Maria.  Steve knew it was probably true.  But he just couldn’t move out of Stark’s way and let him have Bucky.  Not ever.  Steve was with Bucky until the end of the line.

 

“Sharon Carter,” Banner said, looking at Steve.  “That’s the woman who Tony thinks is Barnes’ daughter, right?”

 

Steve shrugged.  “I’m not about to guess at what Stark might be thinking.”

 

Tony made a face.  “Fun story.  Did you know that for a while I thought she might be my sister?”

 

Steve looked up at him, curious in spite of himself, though he didn’t let it show on his face.  He hoped.

 

“I was digging through a bunch of my dad’s old records.  Found this very hushhush adoption one of his lawyers drafted up after the war.  I figured maybe dad, you know, knocked up some USO chorus girl or something.  Peggy Carter was involved too.  She was always cleaning up after him.”

 

Banner looked at Tony.  “What made you decide she wasn’t your sister?”

 

“I met her,” Tony said blandly.  “No sense of humor.  Not much style.  Couldn’t possibly be my blood relation.”  He popped a handful of blueberries in his mouth.  “Plus, I took a peek at some of her records.  References to some genetic abnormalities, consistent with experiments that had been conducted by Schmidt.”  He looked down at Steve.  “How long was Barnes Schmidt’s guinea pig?”

 

Banner looked at Steve, who remained silent.  

 

“Is it weird?” Tony asked Steve.  “Dating your friend’s daughter?”  He sighed, popping more blueberries in his mouth.  “I’ve done it a few times.  It was weird.  Killed the friendships too, though I guess that probably isn’t an issue in your case what with Barnes already trying to murder you.”

 

Steve just leaned back against the wall and stared across the quinjet at nothing.

 

Tony finally gave up on trying to get a rise out of Steve and headed up front to torment Barton.

 

Banner looked at Steve.  “Were you?”

 

“What?” Steve asked.

 

“Friends?” Banner asked.  “You and Stark and Barnes and Carter?  All friends?”

 

Steve nodded.  “Yeah, we were.  A long time ago.”

 

***

 

Steve was waiting on the steps to the museum’s main entrance when Sharon arrived. He watched her, looking at her with fresh eyes.  He could see glimmers of Peggy in her, her height, her grace, but most of all in the way she held herself.  Like she wasn’t going to take lip off anyone.  As for him ... He didn’t recognize his own reflection most days.  He certainly couldn’t see any of himself reflected in Sharon Carter.

 

She smiled at him awkwardly.  “Uh, Captain,” she said in a way that was both a greeting and a question.

 

He nodded and gestured toward the sculpture garden.  In silence, they fell into step together.  The sculpture garden was large, sectioned off by tall hedgerows, which provided a considerable amount of privacy.  The privacy was increased by the cell phone looking thing Natasha had given him.  He had no idea how the thing was supposed to protect his privacy, but he figured it was Natasha’s way of apologizing.

 

“I saw what you did in Brazil,” Sharon said.  “You know, on the news.”

 

“Yeah,” he replied awkwardly.  “All part of the job.  I guess.”

 

She turned and looked at him.  “Is it a job?”

 

He frowned.

 

“Being an Avenger, I mean,” she clarified.  “Is it a job?  Like, do you have a timesheet and a 401K?”

 

He laughed, shaking his head, pulling the baseball cap down a little farther.  As far as disguises went, it wasn’t much of one.  But it might throw off the casual observer.  “Uh, no, there’s no HR department.”

 

“Health insurance?” she asked.

 

He shrugged.  “Eh, sort of.  If you call cutting edge experimental medical procedures health insurance.”

 

She winced.  “That sounds a bit ominous.”

 

He shrugged again.  “Eh, it’s all sort of relative at this point.”

 

She laughed and for several minutes, they just walked through the sculpture garden, neither of them really seeing any of the sculptures.  It was early summer and the weather was beautiful.  But it was a weekday, so there weren’t too many people in the garden.

 

“Speaking of relative,” Steve said awkwardly.  “I spoke to your ... mother the other day.”  He winced as soon as the words were out of his mouth.   _You really don’t have any idea how to talk to women, do you?_  Nope.  Not then and not now.

 

Sharon turned to him, eyebrows pulling together.  He could see it the second it hit her, who he meant.  He could almost feel her withdraw.  “Peggy,” she said tightly.

 

“Yeah,” he said brightly, trying to lighten the mood.

 

“So this is _that_ conversation,” she said quietly.  She turned and looked at him.  “I didn’t think Margaret wanted you to know she was alive.”

 

Margaret.   _Damn._  This might even be worse than he thought.  “Uh, I’m not sure she did,” he admitted.  “Her hand was forced.”

 

“Someone got one up on Peggy Carter, there’s a first,” Sharon said bitterly.

 

Steve shoved his hands in his pockets, shaking his head, searching for something to say.  “I - uh - “ he fell silent.  He swallowed thickly.  “She told me.  About us.”

 

Sharon looked at him. “She told you what, exactly?”

 

“That - “ He searched vainly for a rock to crawl under.  There wasn’t one.  “That we’re - that you’re ... my daughter,” he finished, feeling like an idiot.  Some part of him appreciated the absurdity of the situation.  Physically, they appeared to be almost the same age.  They probably did look like they were on a date.  And yet, they were father and daughter.  And both of them qualified for the senior discount.

 

Sharon looked away and was quiet for a long time.  “And you believed her?”

 

Steve waited until Sharon looked at him and he nodded.  “Yes, I did.  I do.”

 

Sharon looked away again and Steve could tell she was having a hard time with what he’d just said.  Sharon shook her head.  “Why would you believe her?”

 

He opened his mouth and then shut it again.  He frowned.  “Because I love her.”  He caught himself.  “ _Loved_.”  He sighed.  “Love.  I’m not sure.”

 

Sharon just stared at him and Steve understood that, of all the potential answers she had ever considered to that question over the years, the idea that he loved Peggy Carter had never occurred to her.  “Don’t you think we should wait for DNA results?” she asked.

 

Steve frowned.  “Whatever answers you need,” he said.  “I’m fine with.  If you want DNA testing, I’ll do it.”

 

“But it’s not necessary for you,” Sharon pressed, eyes narrowing.

 

He shook his head, knowing she needed something more from him.  “When we - “ He stopped, coughing awkwardly.  “When you - “  He had never, in his life, wished for anything more than he wished for it to be possible for him to literally die of embarrassment.  He took a deep breath.  “Peggy and I were in love.  What happened between us, it was love, respect, commitment.  I’m sorry I wasn’t there, to make it right.  If there was any way I could go back and fix it - ”  He trailed off.  That was the story of his life.

 

Sharon looked away, her expression hard and in that moment, she looked exactly like Peggy Carter.  She turned back to him.  “I’ll set something up,” she said.  “Don’t worry, it’s just a cheek swab.”

 

He nodded, somehow hurt, but also not shocked that Sharon needed more than his assurances, especially considering they were based on Peggy’s word, which apparently did not count for much with Sharon.

 

She looked away and then finally back to him.  “Peggy Carter doesn’t love anyone or anything.”

 

Steve winced.  “She did,” he said quietly.  “I think, maybe, she still does.”

 

Shaking her head, Sharon turned.  “I’m gonna ... go.  You have my number.  I’ll be in touch about the test.”

 

END CHAPTER


	8. December 1945 / The Blitzkrieg Button / May 1950 / Present Day

**December 1945**

 

“Well, there you are,” Howard said brightly, watching Peggy blink slowly at the ceiling.  She lifted her head from the pillow to look at him and then frowned, letting her head flop back down.  He leaned forward in the chair he’d pulled next to the hospital bed.  “I have to hand it to ya, Carter,” he said.  “You don’t do anything halfway.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked dully.

 

Howard flipped through her chart.  “Based on the barbiturate level alone,” he said, “you should be dead.  Like, deader than a doornail, dead.  Add in the plastic bag and - “ he gestured with his hands.  “You shouldn’t be here.”

 

“And yet, I am.”  She didn’t sound pleased.

 

“And yet you are,” he confirmed.  He closed the chart and tossed it at the foot of her bed.  He looked at her.  She looked like shit.  She’d looked like shit for more than a year.  “Any particular reason I’m listed as your next of kin?” he asked.

 

“Oh, Howard, you seem reasonably bright,” she replied, not looking at him.  “I’m sure you can figure it out.”

 

He sighed, wishing he had a clue how to get through to her.  He excelled at irritating her, pissing her off.  He’d never had any luck charming her, and even less trying to offer comfort.  “Since you were unconscious,” he said.  “I took the opportunity to have some of the lovely nursing staff draw blood samples.  Seems like the serum is probably responsible for your survival.”

 

She finally looked at him.  “I thought you said it had no effect.”

 

He shrugged.  “Not like I haven’t been wrong about it before.  On top of being dead, you should also have severe kidney damage, brain damage, possibly lung damage too.  But you’re fine.  Apart from you know ...”  He gestured with his hand.  “Being suicidal.”

 

“I am not suicidal,” she replied crisply.  

 

He frowned.  Never let the stiff British upper lip get in the way of reality.  He was more than willing to give Peg the benefit of the doubt, but when someone was found in their locked apartment with a plastic bag around their head after consuming enough goofballs to kill a herd of elephants, there really wasn’t much room for misinterpretation  

 

He got it, he really did.  First Steve, then her career, and finally the baby.  And what did she have left?  She was stuck in a world where everything she’d gained in the war, literally and figuratively, had been stripped away.  But he also knew Peggy well enough to know that there was more fight left in her.

 

“Great,” he said.  “Glad to hear it.  I’ll step out so you can get dressed, I have a job for you.”

 

She pushed herself into a sitting position and stared at him.

 

He frowned, sinking back in his chair.  “Phillips contacted me.  You’re being recalled.  He wants you in the SSR office in New York.”

 

She looked away, sinking back down onto the mattress.

 

“It has to do with Rogers,” he said quietly.  

 

She looked at him.

 

“The SSR, for better or for worse, are the official keepers of Steve’s legacy.  Phillips didn’t say much, but the fact that he said anything at all makes me think it must be serious.  Technically, you’re still a part of the division.  On extended leave“

 

“I’m not much in the mood for either your or Phillips’ pity,” she said.

 

Howard laughed.  “It’s not pity, Peg.  If it was busy work, Phillips wouldn’t have called me.  I think it killed him a little bit to have to ask me for help.  Truth is, you’re the only one Phillips trusts to do right by Rogers.”  He sighed heavily.  “He’s probably right.”

 

* * *

 

**April 1946**

_set during the Agent Carter episode ‘The Blitzkrieg Button”_

 

 

Peggy gripped the doorknob in the interrogation room, watching Agent Thompson with his bottle of Scotch.  Why hadn’t she looked before ducking in here?  She had to talk to Howard.  Now.  

 

She knew, in her heart, what it was.  But she had to hear it from Howard.  

 

The vial contained in his little invention was a beacon to Peggy.  A reminder.  Of who and what she was meant to be.  Of how far from her path she had strayed.  For Howard to lie to her about it ... she couldn’t remember a betrayal so profound.  Not only a betrayal of her personally, but of everything she held sacred.

 

Howard would admit what he’d done.

 

And then she’d kill him.  The bastard.

 

Peggy did not have time for Jack Thompson under ideal circumstances.  She certainly did not have time for him now.  Their limited banter was pushing the limits of her ability to humor him.  Thompson was a loose canon and best avoided as a matter of protocol.  Generally, she was immune to his clumsy taunts.  But Thompson did truly have a gift for spotting human weaknesses and preying on it.  

 

And Peggy was feeling particularly easy prey at the moment, raw and exposed, though she was doing her best to quash it.  A better man would take a chivalrous approach.  But Jack Thompson was not a better man.  That was not his strength.  And he always played to his strengths.

 

Thompson chuckled.  “You're trying to hide something, Peggy. And the only one you're fooling is you.”

 

Oh, she most certainly was hiding something. And if her sinking suspicions were correct - and she knew they were - what she was hiding was one of the last remaining samples of Steve Rogers’ blood.  The very last bit of him, still in her possession, in her keeping.  And like the rest of Steve, and everything he stood for, invaluable.  

 

“And what's that, Agent Thompson?” she forced herself to ask.

 

He shrugged.  “The natural order of the universe. You're a woman. No man will ever consider you an equal. It's sad, but it doesn't make it any less true.”

 

Unexpectedly, the artless insult tore right to the heart of her.  Steve was the best man she had ever known.  Despite Jack’s beliefs, Steve considered her an equal, a partner.  He had trusted her, had faith in her.  

 

And she had failed him.  

 

In so many ways.

 

She would not fail him tonight.

 

She forced herself to hold her chin up.  “I can always come to you for the truth,” she said.   “Good night.”

 

* * *

 

 

**May 1950**

 

“Her mother died,” Peggy said quietly, idly tracing  the tablecloth’s delicately embroidered pattern with her fingernail.  Her ears were still ringing from the explosion and her left elbow was throbbing from where she’d smashed into the ground.  At least managed to shoot the bastard before he escaped.  Hopefully Sousa would be able to get something out of him - hopefully something that could lead them to whatever Whitehall’s missing project was.

 

“Pardon?”

 

She looked across the table at Mr. Jarvis.  He looked awful as well, smudges of dirt on his lapel, hair in disarray.  “Sharon,” she said.  “Her mother died yesterday.  Car accident.”

 

His brow furrowed and then a dawning comprehension, followed by horror spread across his features.  “I’m so sorry,” he said quickly.  He pursed his lips together.  “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather discuss this with Mr. Stark?”

 

“Oh, yes,” she said dryly.  “In times of emotional crisis, I always look to Howard for guidance and support.”

 

Mr. Jarvis frowned.  “Point taken,” he said.  “Perhaps Miss Martinelli?”

 

She shook her head.  “I’m afraid it’s you, Mr. Jarvis.”

 

He nodded, looking down at the cup of tea before him, seeming to appreciate the gravity of the situation.  “Is she okay?” he asked.

 

“Physically, she is unharmed,” Peggy said.  “But I’m sure she is far from alright.  She’s a little girl who just lost the only mother she’s ever known.”

 

“Are you considering ... taking action?” he asked.  “It is my understanding, from several things Mr. Stark has said, that her adoptive mother was the heart of the family.”

 

Peggy looked down at her hands, skinned and scraped, gunpowder residue clearly visible on her right hand.  “I considered it,” she said.  “For most of the morning.”

 

“And?” he prompted.

 

“And then someone tried to blow me up, Mr. Jarvis,” she said dryly.  “Colonel Ross is mounting a witchhunt to take every bit of the SSR Project Rebirth data and I am, most certainly, standing in his way.  I expect he’ll have me called before a Senate committee before the year is out.  It has something to do with Whitehall, but I’m not sure what, exactly.”

 

He frowned, studying his tea.  “You’re a target,” he said.  “With powerful enemies.”

 

“Yes,” she said quietly.

 

“And yet, Sharon’s adoptive mother died needlessly, due to random chance.  One cannot know the future, no matter how informed.”

 

“Yes, Mr. Jarvis,” she said.  “But after Sharon’s adoptive mother was killed, they didn’t cut Sharon into little pieces to find out what makes her tick.  It is my understanding that is what men like Whitehall do to _gifted_ people.”

 

Mr. Jarvis paled.  “Indeed.”  He took a deep breath and his brow furrowed.  He hesitated for a moment before saying quietly, “You’re wondering what her father would want you to do.”

 

Peggy screwed her eyes shut against the burn of tears.  Yes, indeed, that was the heart of the matter right there.  She opened her eyes, blinking quickly.  She thought she had been moving on from Steve.  Sometimes, entire days would pass without him coming to mind and she really wished that today was one of those times.  

 

“What he would want is irrelevant,” she said quietly.  “He’s not here.  I am.  And Sharon and I will have to live with the consequences of my actions.”

 

* * *

 

 

**Present Day**

 

Natasha picked at a french fry, studying Steve.  “So, how’s Sharon?” she asked.

 

Steve nodded and then shrugged.  He’d been expecting the question for days.  At least she waited until they were alone to ask.  “Okay.  I think.”  

 

Steve was exhausted, mentally and emotionally.  He’d been in Romania the day before yesterday, tracking down some Hydra operatives who turned out to be way more trouble than they were worth.  The intel had been crap.  At least he was paired with Barton and Thor, neither of whom seemed to have any interest in Tony’s latest skirmish with Fury or how Steve fit into it.

 

He and Natasha were grabbing a late dinner in a little hole in the wall place in midtown, working on mending their ruptured friendship.  Steve was taking the rare moment of downtime to try and regain his bearings.  He was so damn lost.  He felt like he had when they first thawed him out, so confused it made his head ache.

 

Natasha just watched him, not saying anything.

 

“I think I upset her,” Steve said.  He sighed, leaning back in his chair, pointedly ignoring the looks he was getting from the girl behind the counter.  The very last thing he needed right now was another emotional entanglement.

 

It had been a week since he met with Sharon at the museum.  He did the DNA swab earlier in the day, at some random walk-in lab on the lower east side, per her instructions  They said they’d have the results in a couple of days.  

 

Sharon hadn’t been at the lab, not that he’d really expected it.  Still, it stung.  She was upset with him and he wasn’t entirely sure why.  He suspected that it had a lot to do with the fact that he took Peggy at her word and, clearly, Sharon did not.

 

“She’ll come around,” Natasha said, though Steve suspected she was lying to make him feel better.  “She just needs some time to adjust.”

 

He raised his eyebrows.  “I’m pretty sure she knew about it for years before I did.”

 

Natasha shrugged.  “Yeah, but there’s knowing and then there’s _knowing_.”

 

“Meaning what?” Steve asked, brow furrowed.

 

Natasha smiled, shaking her head.  “You’re kinda a big deal,” she said.  “Iconic.  Just imagine her perspective.  For years, she could kick back on a Sunday night and watch some cable access special about Captain America and know in some abstract way that he was supposedly her father.”  She shrugged.  “But now you’re here, and you went and did a damn cheek swab because she asked.  It’s a whole different ballgame.”

 

Steve shook his head.  “It does great things for my ego to be a constant disappointment in person.”

 

“Eh,” Natasha warned, holding up a finger, shaking it at him.  “I didn’t say you were a disappointment.”  She frowned.  “Quite the opposite, actually.  For somebody so righteous, you’re surprisingly likeable.”

 

“Well, I do what I can,” Steve said dryly.

 

“You’re a lot to live up to, Rogers,” she said seriously.  “Just give her time.”

 

Steve sighed, at a loss.  “Not like I have much choice,” he said.

 

Natasha picked up another french fry and then looked up at him, opening her mouth to say something.  Abruptly, she stopped, her vision fixed on a point beyond his left shoulder, eyes wide.  She set down the fry, hopping off her barstool and dusting off her hands.

 

“I’ll catch ya later,” she said.

 

Steve knew what he was going to see before he turned, but it was still like a gut punch looking at her.  Peggy was standing in the middle of the cramped little dive, looking all prim and proper and reserved.  Her hair was pulled back into a severe knot, her white shirt was neatly pressed.  Her dark pencil skirt clung to her hips and legs, displaying her figure to perfection.  The heels, this time, were black.  She was still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

 

“Captain,” she said, voice crisp.  “A word.”  She paused.  “If you’re free.”  

 

Steve wasn’t exactly sure what to make of her phrasing.  He had the impression she was a lot more accustomed to doling out orders than requests.  

 

“Sure,” he said.  He picked up his pint glass and drained the last of his beer before fishing some cash out of his wallet and leaving it on the table, nodding to the girl behind the counter.  

 

He turned to Peggy, motioning for her to lead the way.  She walked down the sidewalk and around the corner, into the alley where his bike was parked.  He assumed the black luxury sedan next to it was hers.  

 

Steve had spent the last couple of years resigning himself to the fact that he was never going to be anything more than a soldier.  Human connection seemed so impossible to him.  He couldn’t date.  He’d told Natasha it was difficult to find someone with shared life experience, and that was absolutely true.  Trying to connect with people who appeared to be his own age made him feel like an alien.  All of his touchpoints were wrong.

 

It wasn’t just the dating that was going nowhere.  With friends like his, who needed enemies?  He was going to live and die as a soldier, with no happily ever after, and no life beyond war.  

 

But now, completely out of the blue, Bucky was back, Peggy was back, and he had a daughter - an actual flesh and blood relation.  It was everything he ever thought he wanted, his best friend, his girl and a family.  And none of it was going to plan.  

 

Peggy stopped next to the car and studied him for a moment. “It would be best if we spoke somewhere private,” she said.

 

He nodded. She seemed hesitant, which he didn’t understand.  He suspected that whatever her plans had been for the evening, they hadn’t included tracking him down.  He didn’t know if that was good, or bad.  “I’ll follow you.”

 

The drive to the east village didn’t take very long at that time of night.  The loft had private underground parking and a coded elevator.  It was very modern and probably obscenely expensive.  Everything inside the apartment was hard surfaces and sharp corners.  Steve didn’t particularly care for it, but as long as Fury and Stark couldn’t eavesdrop, it would suffice.

 

He followed Peggy to what was intended to be the living room space.  There was a glass coffee table, probably some smart surface, like those all over Stark Tower.  It was flanked on either side by large leather sofas that looked more like modern art than pieces of furniture.  Peggy motioned for him to sit and he did.  

 

He waited as she walked behind a divider into what he assumed was some kind of office.  There was a sound of papers rustling.  She returned, self-consciously taking a seat next to him on the couch.  She set a thick manila envelope on the coffee table.

 

He stared at the envelope apprehensively.  “What is it?”

 

She looked at him, lips pursed together.  “You,” she said with a tight smile.

 

He frowned.  “What?”

 

“Well, not _you_ ,” she clarified, sounding flustered.  “But the legal rights to Captain America.”

 

His frown deepened and he leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his thighs, staring at the envelope.  He looked at Peggy again, head canted to the side.  “ _What_?”

 

She sighed, her expression was sheepish.  “Just what I said,” she replied.  “The legal rights to Captain America.  You know, trademark, copyright, intellectual property rights.”

 

He winced.  His head was starting to pound.  Of all the things he thought Peggy might want to discuss, the phrase ‘legal rights to Captain America’ had not figured into it.  “You mean I don’t own the rights to me?”

 

“Ah ... no,” she admitted, staring at the folder.  She glanced up at him.  “Technically, you’ve never owned the rights to Captain America.  He was a construct of the federal publicity machine during World War II.”

 

He shrugged.  Okay, fine.  That, at least, made sense.  He hadn’t worried about it during the war.  The Army owned him at that point.  It hardly mattered that they owned Captain America too.  He picked up the envelope, testing its weight.  He looked over at Peggy.  “So how did you get this?”

 

“It wasn’t just me,” she said quietly, smoothing the hem of her skirt.  “Howard actually fronted the bulk of the financial investment.  In the early 1970s, patriotism was decidedly out of vogue and the government needed Stark weapons systems more than ever.  He used the opportunity to negotiate the sale.”

 

Steve knew there was more to it than that.  “And Howard just gave you the rights?”

 

She snorted.  “God, no.  I blackmailed him,” she stated matter-of-factly.  “And the wanker managed to cheat me out of a good chunk of the rights, specifically around merchandising.”

 

This was going from bad to worse.  He was afraid to ask.  “Merchandising?”

 

“Oh yes,” she said seriously.  “Haven’t you ever wondered why the Captain America toys are so much sillier than the Iron Man toys?  Tony owns the merchandising rights to your likeness and he’s made a pretty penny off them.”

 

Steve screwed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger.  He owed Fury another ten bucks.  “And you?” he asked.  “What did you do with your half?”

 

“Nothing,” she said quietly.

 

He put his hand down and turned to look at her.  “Nothing?”

 

She shrugged and looked away.  “I gave the Smithsonian permission to use a good deal of archive footage and basic biographical information.  I allowed them to display your uniform, though you recovered that yourself.”  She sighed.  “Everything else has been under lock and key.”

 

He laughed mirthlessly.  “ _Why?_ ’ he asked, knowing he sounded bitter, angry, confused - which he was.  “Why not make money off the dancing monkey?”

 

She flinched and Steve immediately regretted his words.  Shifting on the couch, she kicked off her shoes and tucked her legs under herself.  She sat there in silence for several long moments, clearly trying to craft a response.  But for the first time since he saw her on that rooftop, he felt like maybe this was _his_ Peggy and not some familiar stranger. He could almost feel her warring with herself.  He suspected that this was an attempt at making amends and she was sorely out of practice.

 

“I failed to keep you safe in life,” she finally said quietly.  “I know it was inadequate, but I did what I could to keep your memory safe in death.”

 

His chest ached and he couldn’t breathe.  He reached out for her.  “Peggy, I - “  

 

Quick as wink, she moved out of his reach, standing and walking to the wall of windows, overlooking the city.  He could have kicked himself.  In the past, in another life, she’d opened up to him.  He’d seen her joy and love.  But he’d never seen anything quite so raw as what she just showed him.  And he’d screwed it up.

 

“I still have your footlocker,” she said, not turning to face him as she stood barefoot before the windows.  “Dugan and Morita brought it to me after you were declared missing.  I intended to give it to Sharon, but she stopped taking my calls quite a few years ago.  So I kept it.  I can have it delivered to your apartment.”

 

Steve stood and slowly walked over to the windows, standing next to Peggy, grateful she didn’t retreat.  He watched her reflection in the glass.  She seemed sad, soft, all the things she hadn’t been at their last meeting.  All the things he suspected she spent the last seventy years burying.

 

He remembered what it was like, waking up alone in a strange world.  He remembered what it was like to lose Bucky, to watch him fall.  

 

Peggy had been through all of that and more.  She lost Bucky.  She lost him.  She lost the fellas, and Howard, and Phillips.  She may as well have lost Sharon.  Peggy was tough.  She played a good game, she always had.  But inside, she must have been as crushed as him, as lonely and out of touch.  

 

Steve understood the absolute terror of daring to believe he might be able to regain some of what he lost.  He felt it when he looked at Bucky.  He felt it when he looked at Peggy and Sharon.

 

He took a step, closing the distance between himself and Peggy.  Her head turned and she looked up at him, cautious and maybe a little afraid.

 

“Why did you really ask me here?” he asked.

 

She opened her mouth, but closed it again, shaking her head.  “I’m sorry,” she said, looking away, back at the skyline.  “About the other night.  I could have handled it ... better.”

 

“Yeah,” he agreed tightly.

 

She looked at him and then away again.  “I lost you once,” she said quietly.  She looked at him.  “I don’t think I could survive it again.”  

 

He reached out and grasped her lightly by the elbow, turning her to face him.  Her hands reflexively came up to his chest and he stopped, waiting for her to push him away.  She didn’t.  Her fingers flexed against his chest.  Her breathing was too fast.

 

Slowly, she lifted her hands, gently cupping his face as her gaze scanned his features.  Her thumb traced across his bottom lip.  Her eyes were too shiny and she frowned, shaking her head.  "You died," she whispered.

 

He shook his head slowly.  "I was just late.  Couldn’t call my ride."

 

She laughed and it turned into a sob, tears streaming down her cheeks.  In a moment of insanity, he lowered his head, pressing his lips gently to hers.  She sucked in a quick breath, her hands moving to his shoulders, grasping him.  He kissed her again, his fingertips resting lightly at her hips.  He felt her shudder, felt her ragged breath and she leaned into him, kissing him back.

 

He pulled her close, taking her in.  He was drunk on her, on the feel of her hands on him.  When was the last time he touched another human being that wasn't in violence?  This wasn't fleeting human contact.  This wasn't a fake kiss with Natasha, or the flirtatious hug from a beautiful co-ed as she asked him to take a selfie with her.  This was Peggy, his best girl, his friend, his lover, his compass.  She was everything, returned to him.

 

She broke off the kiss, burying her face against his chest, her fingers biting into his back, holding him close.  “My darling,” she whispered quietly, like it was a confession.

 

Steve held her tighter.

 

They stayed that way for a long time, wrapped around one another, neither of them inclined to let go.  Finally, Steve relented, leading her to the couch, which, thankfully, was more comfortable than it looked.  Peggy turned off the lights and took a seat, curled against his side, one leg thrown across both of his.  He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, holding her close.

 

“Why didn’t you find me sooner?” he asked.

 

She rested her head against his shoulder, frowning.  “I thought maybe it would be for the best if I just stayed away,” she said quietly. “Let you start anew.”

 

“It wasn’t,” he said plainly.  “You know, for future reference.  In case I get frozen again.”

 

She laughed mirthlessly as she pulled her hair out of its knot and ran her fingers through the messy tresses.  “Steve, there aren’t many people in this world who would prefer my company to being alone.”

 

“I do,” he said firmly.  “I prefer your company to being alone.  I prefer your company to just about anything.”

 

She looked at him and he was struck by how tired she looked, how worn despite her still youthful features.  She shook her head.  “I can’t be _her_ , Steve.”

 

“Peggy,” he said firmly, “I am not asking you to be anyone.”

 

She shook her head again.  “The girl you knew is dead.  She died with you.  A long time ago.”

 

He shrugged.  “I didn’t die,” he said.  “I’m betting she didn’t either.”

 

She looked at him with something that appeared to be a mixture of amusement and pity.

 

“Hey now,” he chided.  “None of that.  Romanov looks at me like that too and I have news for both of you.  I’m not an idiot.”

 

She smiled sadly.  “I never thought you were an idiot.  Merely an idealist.”

 

“That’s not so bad, is it?” he asked.  “Seems like the world could do with some ideals.”

 

She took a deep breath and curled tighter against him.  “I can’t even remember what ideals are,” she said quietly.  “All of my sacrifices always seemed important at the time.  But after a while you realize that no matter what you do, nothing ever really changes. And all you’ve done is sell every bit of your integrity to the highest bidder, until there’s nothing left for you.”

 

“Hey,” Steve said softly.  He tapped her lightly under the chin with his knuckle, urging her to look up at him.  She did, giving him a watery smile.  He kissed her and she reciprocated easily, her fingers twining through his hair.   

 

Peggy finally broke off the kiss and pulled away, pushing herself to her feet.  Steve sat there, looking at her, watching as she held her hand out to him.  He let her pull him to his feet.

  
END CHAPTER


	9. Fall 1962 Pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the present day Steggy interlude is being interrupted to bring you backstory. I really tried for the last week and a half to figure out how to cram all this information into vignettes and it just was not working. So, Steggy is on hold while we bring the plot up to speed. The interlude will resume in Chapter 11.

**Fall 1962 - London**

 

“Ma’am, the intern is here.”  

 

Peggy looked up and nodded to the secretary.  She was still becoming accustomed to her new office.  It was strange, after all the time, to be back in London full time.  She was officially on leave from SHIELD, contracting with a subsidiary of Stark Industries under an assumed identity.  In reality, she was still running the SHIELD office, albeit from London, which had significant logistical challenges.  But needs must.  

 

“Please send her in,” Peggy said.  She waited for Sharon.  The young woman had been shadowing her for two weeks, as part of an internship program arranged by one of her former instructors.  It was out of the ordinary, to say the least.

 

“Miss Grant,” Sharon said, entering the office and taking a seat.  She was dressed smartly, in a crisply pressed charcoal skirt and white shirt, topped with a gray cardigan.  Her shoes had a glossy shine and there wasn’t a single blonde hair out of place.  Her accent was impeccably upper class British.

 

And yet, at a glance, Peggy knew that the clothes and shoes were all second hand.  They would fool most people.  As would the accent, which was fake.  As the head of SHIELD, Peggy knew these things.  Most people wouldn’t.  

 

Sharon’s application had been exemplary.  There was nothing from her instructor to indicate that he championed Sharon so fervently because this was one of her few legitimate opportunities out of a life of poverty. Based on the strength of the application and an interview alone, Sharon could have secured a spot at a number of impressive London firms.

 

But Peggy had broken her cardinal rule where Sharon was involved, she intervened.  She chose to mentor the internship herself.  She had always kept tabs, from a distance, on Sharon.  Sharon’s adoptive mother had died when she was a small child.  Peggy knew Sharon’s adoptive father descended into alcoholism and substance abuse and had a string of toxic female companions.

 

Several times, over the years, Peggy had interceded, arranged for the authorities to remove Sharon and any of her brothers, who were still minors, from the home.  But it never seemed that any of the temporary arrangements were any better.  Sharon was resilient.  She was a fighter.  She excelled in academics and athletics.

 

In the last six months, Sharon’s adoptive father had been arrested.  All of her adoptive brothers were legal adults and she had been taken in by her eldest brother and his wife, though it was from all accounts, a rocky situation.  

 

For years, Peggy had maintained her distance from Sharon under the premise that she was a danger to Sharon, that Sharon was safer, the farther apart they were.  Peggy could have intervened during Sharon’s childhood.  She could have taken custody of Sharon.  But that would have brought so much attention to Sharon, dangerous attention.  So, she’d stayed away.  But more and more, Peggy was questioning if she made the right decision.  So, on the spur of the moment, she had made the rather rash choice to come to London to serve as a mentor to Sharon.

 

Peggy knew she was standoffish to Sharon, though in her role as Margaret Grant, CEO of Parallel Solutions, it was fitting.  And it gave Peggy the space to try and come to terms with her nearly-adult daughter.  Truthfully, Peggy didn’t know that she was really entitled to think of Sharon as her daughter.  She certainly hadn’t been a mother to her.  

 

In a perfect world, Peggy would have been overjoyed at the prospect of mothering Sharon.  But they lived in a world that was far from perfect.  In the last seventeen years, she had thought of Sharon daily.  She checked up on her regularly.  But watching, orchestrating from afar wasn’t a substitute for actually being in her life.  

 

So this was Peggy’s woefully inadequate attempt to reach out, to offer Sharon something more substantial than her thoughts.  “Sharon,” she said, “I’m afraid there has been a change of plans.  We’re not going to be reviewing schematics today.”

 

“Ma’am?”

 

Peggy smiled tightly.  “I have a meeting,” she said.  “I would like you to attend.”

 

“Certainly, ma’am,” she said.  “Who are you meeting with?”

 

“Howard Stark.”

 

***

 

“Peg, there you are,” Howard said, pouring the bourbon into glass.  “Can I interest you in a drink?”

 

“Not today, Howard.”

 

“Oh, come - “  Howard turned, glass in hand and stopped.  His brow furrowed as he saw the young woman at Peggy’s side.  He knew why Peggy was in London.  He’d been integral in setting up her cover.  But he hadn’t anticipated ever seeing, much less meeting, Sharon.  The last time he’d seen her, she was only a toddler.

 

Howard wasn’t sure what he had expected, but the young woman wasn’t it.  She didn’t resemble Peggy very closely, or Steve, for that matter.  She was a mix of them, Steve’s coloring, Peggy’s build.  He already knew that physiologically, her chemistry matched Peggy’s more than Steve’s.  But even at a glance, his initial reaction was that Sharon was guarded, more guarded than even Peggy.

 

Howard was staring.  He caught himself.  “I, uh,” he put the bourbon back on the bar, dusting his hands off.  He approached Sharon.  “Hi,” he said, holding out his hand, “Howard Stark.”

 

Sharon returned the handshake, somewhat awkwardly and then moved half a step closer to Peggy.  Peggy didn’t miss it.  “Howard,” she said with a smile, “I thought perhaps Mr. Jarvis might be able to give Sharon a tour while we discuss several items privately.”

 

***

 

“Peg, what are you doing?” Howard said, sinking into a chair with his reclaimed bourbon as they watched Sharon and Jarvis retreat down the hall toward the R&D labs.

 

Peggy sank back in her chair, sighing.  “I honestly don’t know,” she said.

 

Howard threw back half the bourbon in a single gulp, frowning as it burned down his throat.  “What’s she like?” he asked.

 

“Damaged,” Peggy said quietly.  She sighed and then smiled shrugging, “And brilliant and driven.”  She laughed.  “And stubborn, God, she’s stubborn.”

 

“Yeah,” Howard said wryly, thinking that both Peggy and Steve had two of the most mulish personalities he’d ever encountered.  “I have no idea where she got that.”

 

Peggy was quiet for several moments.  “I want to take her back to New York, Howard.”  She took a deep breath.  “I need you to tell me what an awful idea that is.”

 

He frowned and finished the bourbon, setting the empty glass on the coffee table.  “You know, Peg, five years ago, I’d have been your guy, but now ...”

 

Peggy watched him carefully.  “How is Maria?”

 

He smiled.  “Fantastic,” he said.  “Really, truly fantastic.”

 

She propped and elbow on the arm of her chair, leaning forward and resting her chin on her fist.  “So it’s true then,” she said.  “Howard Stark has actually been caught.”

 

He smiled again.  “Well, unlike you, some of the rest of us are actually aging at a typical rate.  Mortality starts to play into it at some point.  I can’t live forever.  I don’t particularly want to die alone.”  He shrugged.  “I’ve never wanted kids, but Maria wants ‘em and I - “  He fell silent and looked at Peggy.  “People are meant to have people, Peg.”

 

She frowned, sitting back in her chair.  “This coming from the world’s leading arms manufacturer.”

 

“Perhaps hypocritical,” he admitted, “but true, none the less.  I understand why you did what you did after the war, but these are different times, Peg.  You deserve to have whatever happiness you can find.”

 

She looked away, seeming to consider his words.  

 

“What does Danny think about any of this?” he asked.

 

She frowned.  “I haven’t discussed it with him.  Yet.”

 

Howard felt like he should pretend to be shocked, but he wasn’t.  And he didn’t feel like pretending.  He hadn’t ever really gotten a bead on Peg’s marriage to Daniel, but they’d been together long enough that something was clearly working.  When they first got married, Howard wondered if Peg might have more kids, but she hadn’t so far.  And Howard wasn’t about to ask.  He figured that was between Peg and Daniel.  He didn’t even know if Daniel knew about Sharon.

 

“Does Sharon know who she is to you?” Howard asked.

 

Peg looked at him and then away.  “I don’t know,” she said quietly.  “There’s no reason that she should, but sometimes she seems to understand there is more to our arrangement than meets the eye.”

 

“You don’t seem to age,” Howard said dryly.  “But you still only get one life, Peg.  Don’t fuck it up anymore than you already have.”

 

There was a sharp knock on the door and both Howard and Peggy turned to see Howard’s assistant.  “There’s an urgent call from New York,” she said.

 

“I told you we didn’t want to be bothered,” Howard said tightly.

 

“Apologies, sir,” she said, “but it’s not for you.  It’s for Ms. Carter.”

 

***

 

“Mr. Jarvis,” Peggy said, interrupting his explanation of one of Howard’s latest, horrible, inventions, “pardon me, but I need a word with my intern.”

 

“Yes, of course,” Jarvis replied with a smile.  He gave Peggy a look, which she did her best to ignore.

 

“Sharon,” Peggy said, looking at her daughter.  She wished there was a way to make it less awkward, but there didn’t seem to be.  “There’s been a change of plan.  I must return to New York.  My flight is this evening.”

 

“Oh,” Sharon said, her face falling.  But the disappointment was gone in an instant, hidden behind a brittle shell.  Peggy knew that look.  It was one born of long practice.  Sharon was accustomed to having things taken away from her.  “So I assume, this internship is being cut short,” she said tightly.

 

“Uh ... yes,” Peggy admitted.  Sharon turned to leave and Peggy reached out without thinking, touching her lightly on the shoulder.  The girl immediately stopped.  As soon as she turned to face her, Peggy dropped her hand.  “The internship is over,” Peggy said, “but I would like to ask you to come to New York with me.”

 

Sharon frowned.  “I don’t understand.  New York?”

 

“I’m based out of New York,” Peggy admitted.  She sighed.  She motioned Sharon to two lab stools set next to a counter and they both took a seat.  “I’m afraid I haven’t been truthful with you,” she said, thinking to herself that it was one of the biggest understatements ever uttered.  God, what would Steve think if he could see her now?

 

Sharon just sat there, waiting, frowning.  Peggy couldn't help but thinking of how Steve had looked in lineup, that first day at Camp Lehigh, intrigued but wary.

 

“I, uh,” Peggy stammered, feeling like an idiot.  “Oh, fucking hell,” she cursed, “Sharon, my real name is Peggy Carter and I - “  She just stared at Sharon, at those eyes, so like Steve’s.  She sighed.  “I’m the woman who gave birth to you.”

 

Sharon’s expression was unreadable.

 

“There’s no ... expectation, of anything,” Peggy said in a rush.  “If you choose to come to New York.  I don’t mean to take the place of your mother.  I just - “  She swallowed thickly.  “I would just like the opportunity for us to get to know one another.”

 

Peggy took a breath.  “My husband, Daniel, and I have a large home, but if you would prefer your own accommodations, that can be easily arranged.  I just - “

 

“Yes,” Sharon said firmly.

 

“Pardon?”  Peggy asked.

 

“Yes,” Sharon said.  “I would like to go to New York.  With you.”

 

Peggy blinked back tears.  “Okay, yes.  Yes.”

 

***

**Fall 1962 - New York**

 

“What I understand, Agent,” Peggy Carter said sharply, “is that I had to return from London six weeks early, for reasons that no one seems able to adequately explain.  I was led to believe this had to do with Whitehall, but all of the reports I’ve seen are KGB.”

 

Peggy hadn’t even been home yet.  She’d met Daniel at the airport and given him a very abbreviated version of events before sending Sharon with him as Peggy left directly for the office.  When she left London, all she knew was that SHIELD had intercepted one of Whitehall’s projects.  But the documentation she’d been handed in the car wasn’t Hydra, it was related to KGB files from Leviathan.

 

“I can explain.”

 

Peggy looked up as Agent Fury entered the office, his expression so grim it gave her pause.  She motioned to the chair on the opposite side of her desk while motioning for Agent Morris to leave.  “Please do.”

 

“We intercepted a shipment,” he said.  “We thought it was one of Whitehall’s - and he probably was involved at some point.  But it’s much more likely that it’s KGB, tied to the old Leviathan project.”

 

Peggy frowned.  “And what exactly is it?” she asked.  “A bomb?  A formula?  The records were vague verging on useless.”

 

“A man,” Fury said.  

 

Peggy sat back in her chair, looking at Agent Fury.  He was far from the typical SHIELD agent.  She’d taken a chance on him, as Phillips had once taken a chance on her.  She trusted his gut.  “A man?”

 

“In stasis,” Fury continued.  “Though the extraction was ... clumsy.  He’s out now, though we’ve kept him under very heavy sedation, for everyone’s safety.”

 

“What is he?” Peggy asked.  “One of Ivchenko’s operatives?  I thought they were all girls.  What does that have to do with Whitehall’s work?”

 

“The scientists are still trying to determine that,” he said tightly.  “This guy’s different from the other Leviathan operatives we’ve found.  That’s why they thought he might be tied to Whitehall."  He paused.  "But _I_ think we have found the Winter Soldier.”

 

Peggy took a deep breath and felt her insides go cold.  “The Winter Soldier is a ghost,” she said.

 

“Maybe,” Fury said, shrugging.  “But I’m pretty sure we have him in one of the containment rooms downstairs.”

 

Peggy motioned Fury to the door and fell into step next to him as they made their way through the office to the elevator.  Peggy didn’t miss the looks other agents gave Fury as they passed.  He wasn’t popular, but he was good.  Very good.

 

They made their way past the heavily armed guards in the sub-basement of the SHIELD facility.  Rather than entering the detention cell where he was being held, they entered the room next to it.  Peggy killed the lights and watched through the two-way mirror.  

 

The man was unconscious, but the readouts on the monitors next to the mirror showed that he was alive.  She crossed her arms over her middle, holding herself as she looked at him.  His hair was long, greasy and matted in places.  His skin was too pale, sallow, like he hadn’t seen the sun in years.  The ridge of puckered skin where his chest bonded to the bionic arm was particularly gruesome.

 

She took a deep, shaky breath.  His eyes were tightly closed, but she knew if he opened them, they would be a pale, clear, blue.  She wasn’t sure what else they might hold.

 

“Agent Fury,” she said quietly.  “Pull all of the SSR records on the 107th from ‘43 to ‘45.”

 

“You think he’s one of ours?”

 

“He was,” she said tightly.  “Once upon a time, he was Sergeant James Barnes.”  She shook her head.  “But I suspect you’re right.  I believe that he is now the Winter Soldier.  Good work, Agent.”

 

***

 

“Late night,” Daniel said as she hung her coat in the closet.  

 

Peggy abandoned the pretense of being quiet and turned to face him.  “Yes,” she said, pursing her lips together.  She’d been awake verging on forty hours and she was exhausted.

 

He looked at her and sighed and she knew he was disappointed in her.  “Sharon’s set up in the guest room,” he said.  “She seems ... nice.”

 

“No she doesn’t,” Peggy said dryly.  She walked past Daniel into the living room and poured herself a gin and tonic.

 

“No,” he agreed.  “She doesn’t.  She probably said a dozen words to me all evening.  She seems closed off.”

 

Peggy took a drink and absently removed her earrings.  “I didn’t intend - “

 

“You never intend, Peg,” he said quietly, sounding more tired than irritated.  “I get it.  Duty calls.  I do know how that works, you know.  But the kid’s here now and I don’t even know how much to say to her.  How much does she know?”

 

Peggy took another drink.  “She knows that I’m her birth mother.  She knows my name.  She met Howard and Mr. Jarvis, briefly, in London.  Now she’s met you.”

 

Daniel sighed and sank down into the sofa.  “Why is she here?” he asked.  He held up his hand to forestall her reply.  “I’m not complaining,” he said firmly.  “I’m just asking.  Why did you bring her here?  How do you imagine this all playing out?”

 

“I don’t,” Peggy said shortly, joining him on the sofa.  “I didn’t think it through.  It was a split second decision.  I knew I had to return to New York.  I knew she was in a bad situation.  I didn’t want to abandon her.  Not again.”

 

He laughed and she glared at him.  “Oh, come on, Peg,” he said.  “No, really.  It’s actually kind of reassuring that you can make emotional decisions.”

 

“I’m glad I’m a source of amusement,” she said sourly, taking another drink.

 

He scooted closer to her, wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her to his side.  “I like it when your decisions aren’t entirely based on logic,” he said.  

 

She sighed, leaning into him.  “Daniel, I have no idea what to do.”

 

“I know,” he said brightly.  “But it should be fairly entertaining watching you try to figure it out.  She seems a lot like you.  Have fun with that.”

  
  
  
  


END CHAPTER


	10. Fall 1962 Pt. 2

**Fall 1962 - New York**

 

“Good morning,” Peggy said as Sharon entered the living room.  The girl nodded.  “I’m sorry about last evening,” she said.  “The reason I was called back to New York - it was very urgent.”

 

Sharon took a seat in one of the chairs across from Peggy.  She looked uneasy, apprehensive, which Peggy figured was to be expected, suddenly being thrust into a new reality.  “Daniel,” Sharon said quietly.  “He’s your husband.  Is he my - “  She let the question hang there.

 

Peggy set her cup of coffee down.  “Uh, no,” she said, shocked by the realization of what it was going to mean to live under the same roof as Sharon.  She smoothed a wrinkle out of her skirt.  “No, he’s not.  Daniel and I met after you were born.”

 

Sharon nodded and Peggy didn’t know if she was relieved or upset, or anything.  She didn’t seem surprised, which made Peggy think that Sharon already suspected as much.  Sharon took a deep breath and said, “My biological father, is he - “

 

“Dead,” Peggy said quickly, abruptly, so abruptly that Sharon flinched.  

 

Peggy took a deep breath, trying to regroup.  For nearly twenty years, she’d blatantly ignored any inquiries into her private life regarding Steve.  And for those few who knew about Sharon, she had been equally tight lipped.  Her inclination was to snap that someone ought to mind their own damn business.  Except this _was_ Sharon’s business.  

 

“I’m sorry,” Peggy said.  “It’s difficult for me to discuss.”  She smiled tightly.  “Your father died.  In the war.  He was a soldier.  We were not married.”

 

Sharon seemed to take that in without much of a reaction.  Peggy wondered what stories she’d made up over the years, what tales of her “real” parents.  She doubted that Sharon would ever tell her.  Sharon studied the carpet intently.  “So, that’s why you - “ she started.  “You weren’t married.”

 

“Oh fucking hell,” Peggy cursed under her breath, angry with herself.

 

Flinching again, Sharon looked at her.  “Were you in the war?  I don’t understand.  You don’t look old enough to be my mother, much less have been in the war.”

 

Peggy smiled tightly.  “ _That_ is why I .... gave you up,” she said, nearly choking on the words.  They were so very inadequate, but they were all she had.  “I was an agent with a secret Allied division called the Strategic Scientific Reserve.  I was captured by the Nazi deep science division and ... experimented upon.”  She paused, taking a deep breath.  All of this information was classified and some of it, she’d never admitted to another living soul.  But right now, the truth, such as it was, was all she could offer Sharon.  

 

“Most of the subjects died horrible deaths,” Peggy said.  “I survived.  Barely.  I know of one other person, out of hundreds, who survived.”

 

Sharon looked at her.  “You don’t age.”

 

Peggy shrugged.  “Not really, no, at least, so far.  I don’t know if that was the intended effect of the experiment, or if it’s just what I got.  But the fact that I survived makes me a valuable commodity among certain nefarious organizations.”

 

“They want to ... hurt you?” Sharon asked.

 

“Oh, I imagine they want to cut me into little pieces and find out how I work,” Peggy said tightly.  “The fact that you’re my child, that you inherited certain physical traits, puts you at risk as well.”

 

Sharon nodded and looked down at her hands, then frowned.  “I’m strong,” she said.  She looked up at Peggy.  “Stronger.  Than normal people.  I always have been.”

 

“I know,” Peggy said tightly.

 

“And that’s because of you?” Sharon asked.

 

Peggy couldn’t breathe for a moment.  “Because of the experiments, yes,” she said, hating herself for the half truth.

 

Sharon nodded.

 

***

 

**Three weeks later**

 

Peggy tossed the folder across the desk at the agent.  “This means nothing to me,” she snapped.

 

“I think I can help,” Howard said, walking into her office without an invitation.  He clapped Agent Suarez on the back and sent her on her way.

 

“Do tell, Howard,” Peggy said, looking at him expectantly.

 

“We shoulda kept him sedated.  Your latest acquisition is highly unstable,” Howard said tightly.  He took a seat in the chair opposite her desk.  He looked tired.  And full to the brim with regrets.

 

“Yes,” Peggy replied.  “That is what Dr. Mehta’s report indicated.  ‘S _igns of serious physical and mental torture and conditioning_ ’.  I gather that a great deal of instability is to be expected.  And for what it’s worth, I didn’t need an official report to tell me that.  One look at him is sufficient.”

 

“Leave it to the commies,” Howard cursed.  “When your square peg isn’t fitting in the round hole, you just get a bigger hammer.”

 

Peggy narrowed her gaze.  “You’re saying he wasn’t compatible with their conditioning.”

 

Howard laughed mirthlessly.  “Yeah, you could say that.  They would have been hard pressed to find a worse candidate for their techniques.  His complex medical history gives him a natural resistance to Ivchenko’s training methods.  The trauma we can see is just the tip of the iceberg.  He bounces back, so the things that leave scars ...”  He dragged a hand roughly over his face, looking haunted.  “He’s been through hell.  I think they must have thrown everything they had at him.  There are signs that he’s spent a lot of time in some sort of stasis.”

 

“Explain,” Peggy ordered.

 

Howard shrugged.  “I don’t know how they did it.  I don’t know if it’s their technology, or if the serum predisposed him to withstand some really hamfisted science.  Regardless, he’s spent a lot of time in a sort of hibernation.”

 

Peggy shook her head.  “Why would they do that?  Especially considering what a valuable asset he is to them?”

 

“The only thing I can come up with is that it was the only way they could control him.  Their imprinting technology takes at some level, I mean, we saw that first hand in Morocco.  But it looks like it degrades quickly.  The only way they can keep him relatively compliant is to bring him out of stasis, imprint him, use him, and then get him back in stasis as fast as they can before the imprint fades.  The longer he’s out, the more he reverts, especially when he’s not in a controlled environment.”

 

“Reverts to what?” Peggy asked cautiously.

 

“I don’t know,” Howard said grimly, “but it’s not pretty.  I didn’t know Barnes well, but Jesus, Peg.  He’s a mess.  We’ve only had him a couple of weeks and it seems like he’s lost most of his imprint.  But as for what’s there, under the imprint, we just don’t know.”

 

***

 

Peggy stared through the two way mirror at the creature that had once been Bucky Barnes.  His prosthetic arm had been disabled and hung limply at his side.  He was in a corner of the padded room, panting harshly, hunched over like a feral animal, expecting an attack.  Every few minutes, he screamed and occasionally laughed hysterically.  

 

This was just part of the cycle.  She’d been watching long enough to see some semblance of a pattern.  He would go quiet, staring off at nothing for hours.  At times, he would sob uncontrollably, or howl like a wounded animal.

 

She’d spent hours over the last several weeks, down here, watching him, searching for some glimpse of the man she once knew.  So far, there had been none.  He wouldn’t answer questions, either in English or Russian.  He didn’t communicate at all, except to howl or grunt or growl.  He was violently aggressive and had to be constantly restrained.

 

Howard was the one who had suggested euthanizing Barnes, as the only humane option.  Peggy had flatly refused.  It was true that Barnes appeared to be in agony.  She didn’t know if they would ever be able to bring him out of it.  But she had to try.  She had to try for Steve, if for no other reason.

 

***

 

“Ah, yes, well here is Ms. Carter now,” Mr. Jarvis said to Sharon as Peggy approached.  Howard had given Sharon a job at his offices in New York.  Peggy wasn’t crazy about the idea, but it gave Sharon something to do, some place safe to be, while she figured out what she did want.  With Sharon’s intellect and Peggy’s connections, Sharon could do just about anything she wanted.  Peggy did appreciate the irony that she actually saw less of Sharon now that they were ostensibly living under the same roof.  None of this was going to plan.

 

“Thank you Mr. Jarvis,” Peggy said.  “I can take it from here.”  Jarvis nodded and turned to leave.

 

Sharon smiled at Peggy.  They were slowly getting to know one another, but it wasn’t easy.  There was a natural friction born out of their inherent likeness.  “I really could have taken the train home,” Sharon said.  “I can take care of myself.  I have a lot of practice.”

 

Peggy frowned.  “It isn’t your capabilities I doubt,” she said.

 

“You’re still worried,” Sharon said as they started walking to the car.  “That someone might want to harm me because of you.”

 

“It is, and always has been, my biggest fear,” Peggy said tightly.  

 

Sharon glanced over at her nodding, acknowledging what a statement that was coming from Peggy.  They climbed into the car together and Peggy started for home.  

 

“Does this have anything to do with Bucky?” Sharon asked.

 

Peggy nearly swerved into oncoming traffic.  She managed to pull over.  Slowly, she turned in her seat, facing Sharon.  “What did you say?”

 

“Bucky,” Sharon repeated carefully.  “Sergeant Barnes.  That’s why you came back, isn’t it?  You found him?”  She looked at her hands, folded together in her lap.  “I overheard you and Daniel talking,” she admitted.  “I’ve had a lot of free time.  I went to the library.  I researched you and the SSR.  There wasn’t much.  But Mr. Stark had some files in his office too.  I found references to Sergeant Barnes, that he had been killed in the war.”  She frowned.  “I know Daniel said his name, talked about him like he’s alive right now.  You said there was another one, another person who survived the experiments.  Was it him?”

 

Peggy shook her head.  “Sharon, you have to stop,” she said tightly.  “The information you have, it’s dangerous.”

 

“I know,” Sharon said, her lips pulling into a frown, her chin jutting out.  “But you never tell me anything.  I never see you.  I just want to know who I am.  I want to know where I came from.  Is he my father?”

 

“Father?”

 

“Barnes,” Sharon said firmly.  “Was I some Hydra experiment?”

 

Peggy shook her head again.  “No,” she said quietly, blinking back tears.  “No, Sharon, you weren’t an experiment.”

 

Peggy turned back to the road, both hands on the wheel.  Mechanically, she put the car in drive and headed home.  She could feel Sharon, next to her, angry and upset and confused.  And Peggy had nothing to offer her, nothing that would do anything but put her in more danger.

 

***

 

“Late night?”

 

Peggy glared at the guard who immediately fell silent.  She had dropped Sharon off with Daniel before coming straight to the office. She walked through the checkpoint and toward the containment room.  She stopped at the control room and looked through the mirror at Bucky.  He was quiet.  Sitting there on the edge of his cot.  She reached over and adjusted the temperature in the room to just above freezing.

 

“Ma’am,” the technician said.  Peggy ignored her.  She walked down the hall to one of the supply closets and grabbed the heaviest, scratchiest blanket.

 

She headed for the door to Bucky’s cell and the guard outside snapped to attention.  “Stand aside,” Peggy ordered.

 

“Ma’am,” he said, “standard protocol dictates that no one enters the room unassisted or unarmed.”

 

“Move,” Peggy barked, glaring at the guard.

 

With a nod, he stepped aside.

 

Peggy entered the room.  Bucky didn’t react.  He also didn’t react as she turned out the lights.  The only light was what filtered through the small mesh covered window in the heavy steel door.  She watched him, hunched forward, staring blindly at the floor.  Maybe Howard was right.  Maybe they should just put Bucky down.  

 

But she couldn’t do that.

 

She stood next to Bucky.  He remained silent and still.  She took the blanket, shaking it out before sitting next to him, wrapping the blanket around them both.  She leaned heavily into his side.

 

They sat there for what felt like hours.  Peggy was beginning to doze.  Slowly, she became aware that Bucky was holding her wrist, his thumb tracing along the scars.  They weren’t the same scars she carried after escaping from Schmidt and Zola, but they were similar.

 

“Ya feel like yer insides are all in knots, right,” he said, quietly.  “Like yer guts are trying to crawl out any way they can.”

 

Peggy started crying silent tears.  She clasped his hand in both of hers, still leaning heavily against him.  She felt him turn his head toward her.

 

“Where’s Steve?” he asked.

 

She cried harder.  “We lost him,” she said in a whisper.

 

Bucky sighed.  “He’ll turn up,” he said.  “Always does.  He’s too stupid to run away from a fight.”

 

***

 

Howard was shaking his head, pacing her office.  “They found you _sleeping in Barnes’ cell_?”

 

“It was him, Howard.  It was Bucky.  However briefly.”

 

“Yeah, well, he’s not Bucky now,” Howard snapped.  “Do you have any idea how much sedative they had to pump into him?  That was stupid, Peg.  Very stupid.  He could have killed you.”

 

She looked at him.  She thought she should feel something, looking at the anger on Howard’s face.  But mostly she just felt numb.  “He didn’t.”

 

Howard shook his head.  “Do you even want to know where Sharon is?” he demanded.  “Because if you bothered to check in with Daniel, you’d already know she’s not at home.”

 

Peggy was instantly on alert.  “What do you mean she’s not at home?”

 

Howard sighed, his disgust evident.  “She’s with the Jarvises,” he said.  “She showed up on their doorstep around three this morning.”

 

“I don’t - I don’t understand,” Peggy said.

 

“Jesus, Peg,” he cursed.  “She’s not one of your agents.  She’s not Daniel and she sure as hell isn’t Steve.  She isn’t going to put up with your lies and evasions and half truths.”

 

“I haven’t lied to her,” Peggy snapped.

 

Howard just watched her for a long moment, shaking his head.  “Now I can’t even tell if you’re just lying to me, or if you’re lying to yourself.”

 

***

 

Peggy sighed as the technician danced back out of Bucky’s reach.  In the two weeks since he asked about Steve, no one had witnessed any other indication that Sergeant Barnes was in there.  If anything, he was more out of control, more aggressive.

 

As Agent Fury opened the door to the control room, she saw his reflection in the glass.

 

“Ma’am,” he said tightly.  “We have a situation.”

 

She turned and looked at him.  

 

“Agent Sousa insisted we bring this to you immediately.  Your eyes only.”

 

Peggy frowned, taking the file from Agent Fury.  It was probably Daniel calling about Sharon again.  The last several weeks had been an absolute disaster.  Any attempt Peggy made at reaching out to her daughter was immediately rebuffed.  Twice Sharon had taken off for the Jarvises’ house in the middle of the night, only to be returned in the morning looking like a wet cat.

 

Peggy opened the file and stopped cold.  “That will be all, Agent Fury.”

 

“Ma’am,” he said, nodding as he left the control room and closed the door.  

 

Peggy set the folder on the counter in front of the two way mirror and tried to remember how to breathe.  The message was eloquent enough.  It read:  Winter Soldier, and then a set of coordinates and a time.  She glanced at her watch, there were four hours until the deadline.  It would take half that just to reach the coordinates.  But it wasn’t the message that had her attention.

 

There was a photograph.  Black and white, grainy.  There was a young woman, bound to a chair in a nondescript basement.  The picture about as anonymous as it got.  Non-descript girl, non-descript clothes, non-descript basement.  

 

Except that Peggy would know those eyes anywhere.

 

Sharon.

 

***

 

Howard jumped into the plane as the pilot turned to taxi down the runway, securing the door behind himself, waving off the agent who tried to help.  “What the hell are you doing, Peg?  We can’t turn him over, especially after this many months.  I don’t care if he is still a zombie.”

 

Peggy didn’t respond.

 

Cursing under his breath, Howard took a seat on the opposite side of the small airplane.  “I haven’t even seen the damn file.  You may be the Director, but you can’t make unilateral decisions like this.  You have to consult with the Council.”

 

Peggy looked at Howard and instinctively reached for the pistol in her pocket.  “The decision has been made.”

 

The plane continued to taxi and Howard reluctantly buckled in for takeoff.  In the seat directly across from where Peggy sat, Bucky was strapped in, heavily sedated.  His head lolled back and forth several times and he started coughing violently.  As soon as the plane was airborn, Peggy unbuckled and went to him, righting his head, making sure his airway was open.  

 

Bucky blinked and looked at her, their faces only inches away.  His eyebrows pinched together and his eyes welled with tears.  “Peggy,” he said laughing, “is Steve here?”

 

Peggy stared at him for a long moment.  She finally managed to say, “He’s on his way.  But it may take a while.”

 

He smiled, his relief palpable as tears streamed down his eyes.  “Peggy, I knew I’d find my way home again.  I knew it.”

 

She nodded, blinking back tears.  She pulled the sedative out of her pocket.  “I’m just going to give you something to help you sleep.  When you wake up, everything will be okay.  Steve will be here.”

 

He looked at the needle, apprehensive, but then back to her.  He nodded.  “Okay.  If you say so.”

 

She gave him the sedative, watching as he drifted into unconsciousness.  She was numb, cold, like she’d never been before.

 

She could feel the weight of Howard’s stare at her back.  The accusation.  She turned her head toward him, but didn’t actually look at him.   “They have Sharon.”

 

***

 

Peggy stood on the tarmac, squinting against the bitterly cold gusting wind.  Bucky swayed next to her, conscious enough to stand under his own power, but heavily impaired.  He hadn’t spoken again, hadn’t asked about Steve and for that, she was eternally grateful.  

 

As the large transport truck rolled down the runway toward them, Peggy held the pistol to Bucky’s head, the muzzle biting into the flesh behind his ear.

 

The truck stopped and two large men exited.

 

“Let me see her,” Peggy yelled.

 

One of the men nodded to the other and he went around the back of the truck.  Peggy watched as he hefted Sharon down out of the back.  She looked awful, bruised and terrified.  But alive.

 

“Let her go,” Peggy ordered.

 

Again, one of the men nodded and the other released Sharon.  She ran past Peggy to where Howard stood by the waiting plane.

 

“Your turn,” the man said in heavily accented English.

 

Peggy felt the weight of the gun in her hand.  It would be kinder to kill Bucky now, rather than to turn him back over to his handlers.  Howard had been right.  They should have put him out of his misery.

 

But even now, she couldn’t do it.  She shoved Bucky toward the men, watching as he stumbled and fell hard to his knees.

 

The men helped him up and loaded him in the back of the truck, driving away without a backward glance.

 

***

 

Peggy sat at the back of the plane, staring out into the dark sky beyond the window.  She didn’t turn to look as Howard slipped into the seat at her side.  

 

“She’s asleep,” he said. “Though with her constitution, who knows how long the sedative will last.”

 

Peggy nodded.  Sharon hadn’t spoken a word to her, but she seemed to view Howard much more favorably.  He’d questioned her briefly.  As far as they knew, she hadn’t been harmed while in custody.

 

“They had no idea who they took,” Peggy said quietly, staring out the window.  “If they’d realized - “

 

“They wanted Barnes back at all costs,” Howard said gruffly.

 

Peggy turned and looked at him.  “You spent enough time with him to know he’s barely worth the trouble of keeping.  If they’d realized her potential.  If they - “

 

“They didn’t, Peg.”

 

Peggy took a deep breath, wrapping her arms around herself.  She looked across the plane at her daughter.  The Russians hadn’t known anything about Sharon, aside from the fact that she was a pressure point for Director Carter.  “You already know what they do with impressionable young women, Howard.  Just imagine what they could have done with her.”

 

“I don’t want to imagine it,” Howard replied.  “And thankfully, I don’t have to, because she’s okay.  She’s safe.  We have her.  We can keep her safe.”

 

“We can’t, Howard,” Peggy said thickly.  “Clearly, we can’t.  This was all a huge mistake.  I don’t know what I was thinking, bringing her to New York.”

 

“Look,” Howard said, “she’s a smart kid.  You can’t keep her in a gilded cage, Peg.  You should know that better than anyone. She can handle herself.  But not if she doesn’t have the whole story.  If you just come clean with Sharon, tell her everything, you guys have a real chance at a life together.”

 

“She already hates me, Howard,” Peggy said.  “She did her own research, made a lot of bad leaps.  She thinks Barnes might be her father and she just watched me trade him away to the Russians.  How exactly would it be possible to build a future on that?”

 

Howard was quiet for a long time.  “You’re serious,” he said.  “After everything that happened, everything that girl has lost, you’re not going to tell her the truth?”

 

Peggy turned and looked at him.  “I tried to have a relationship with her.  You’ve seen what even a tiny bit of the truth cost us today.  Sharon can’t afford it.”

 

“She’s almost an adult, Peg,” Howard said quietly.  “It may be her decision, rather than yours.”

 

Peggy turned away, staring out the window.  Howard was wrong.  It would always be her decision.  She hadn’t been able to protect Steve, but she damn well would protect their daughter.  To the best of her abilities.

 


	11. Present Day - Peggy's Loft

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Steggy interlude resumes.

**Present Day - Peggy's Loft**

 

Peggy grasped Steve’s hand, pulling him behind her through the darkened flat.  The bed was cosseted away behind a screen.  She’d never actually slept here before.  The loft was a bolthole, a crypt of sorts, where she kept the things she didn’t want anyone to know about.  Almost all of it had to do with Steve.  She didn’t miss the dark humor in the situation.

 

Behind her, Steve was quiet, but his grasp was firm.  Peggy couldn’t believe that this was actually happening, that she was here.  With Steve.  After all these years.  Was he scandalized by how forward she was?  Maybe.  It was Steve.  But then again, he spent a lot of time with Natasha and Tony lately.  He might be acclimating to the social mores of the twenty-first century.  Private Lorraine’s actions were positively G-rated by comparison to the attention that he probably received on a daily basis now.

 

Peggy wondered if the fact that she and Steve had been lovers made it a foregone conclusion to him that it should happen again.  She didn’t know.  All she knew was that she hadn't even known how much she missed him until right now.  

 

She stopped at the foot of the bed and turned to look at him.  A slash of moonlight cut across his face, setting his features in harsh relief.  Gently, she reached up and touched his cheek.  His eyes fluttered shut for a moment before he opened them to look at her again.  God, she’d forgotten his eyes, so blue and framed by those thick lashes.  Those were one of the few things that hadn’t changed with Erskine’s formula.  

 

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” he asked, his hands grasping her hips, pulling her close.

 

“That you’ve always had beautiful eyes,” she said with a smile.  “Even before the serum.”

 

He ducked his head a bit and blushed.  He glanced at her again.  “You look as beautiful as you did the first time I saw you.”

 

She frowned, trying to remember.  “When was the first time you saw me?”

 

“You knocked Gilmore Hodge in the dirt,” he said with a smile.  He pulled her close, nuzzling against her ear.  “You were the most exciting thing I’d ever seen.”

 

She smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck.  “I broke a nail,” she confessed.  “It was tragic.”

 

They both laughed and then stopped, just holding onto one another.  She wondered if he felt it, the absolute release of being able to talk to someone who _knew_.  Someone who was there.  Not having to explain it to someone who read a file or saw an old newsreel on the History channel.

 

“I missed you,” she said shakily.

 

“God, I missed you too, Peggy.  You have no idea how much.”

 

She looked up at him and caught his face in her hands, pulling him down for a kiss.  He tasted the same. How was that even possible?  How, after so many years, could she possibly remember what he tasted like?  But she did.

 

She broke off the kiss, panting harshly.  She tilted her head down, concentrating, as her fingers went to work on the buttons of his shirt, not daring to look at him.  Some part of her couldn’t truly believe that she was willing to put herself through this again.  She buried him, literally and figuratively.  She mourned him for years - decades - of her life.  She struggled so hard to make peace with never having peace, with being alone.

 

“Hey,” he said softly, nuzzling at her temple.  “Where’d you go?”

 

She laughed mirthlessly, still unable to look at him.  She spread the two halves of his shirt wide, running her fingers over his bare torso, still as impressive now as it had been when he emerged from Howard’s contraption.  She felt his shaky intake of breath, the way his fingers tightened at her hips.  She traced the very faint scar on his chest.  

 

She read the report, after SHIELD’s fall.  Barnes stabbed him.  Not deep, thanks to body armor.  But he also shot Steve twice.  And Steve ended up with a skull fracture, a crushed orbital bone, a broken arm and a near drowning.  He was unconscious for two days.  He was so strong, so steadfast that people like Fury treated him as if he was super human.  But he wasn’t.  She, more than most, understood just how fragile and human he was.

 

She shook her head, backing away from him.  “I can’t do this,” she said.

 

She thought he might be angry, offended, but he just looked at her.  And she knew that he understood what she meant.  That she didn’t mean _this_ , here, sex, tonight, between the two of them.  She meant so much more.  She meant _everything_.

 

He sighed and took a seat on the end of the bed.  He held out a hand to her.  When she didn’t take it, he waited, patient and still.  Eventually, she relented, allowing him to pull her close, to stand between his legs as he looked up at her.  He nodded several times, frowning.  “I don’t believe you,” he said.

 

“Dammit, Steve,” she cursed, trying to pull away.

 

He caught her wrist lightly in his grasp and gently urged her to come back.  She stood there, staring at the wall, not daring to look down at him.

 

“If you start running, Peggy,” he said.  “You can never stop.  You know that.”  He sighed.  “I know you’re a fighter.”

 

She shook her head, eyes still fixed on the wall.  “I married,” she said.  “After the war.  Daniel.  We were married for nearly thirty years.”

 

“I know,” Steve said evenly.  “I know he died.  I’m sorry.”

 

She shook her head, frowning.  She glared down at him.  “How can you be so bloody understanding?” she demanded, irrationally angry with him.

 

He just looked up at her.  “Because I love you,” he said quietly.  “And I wouldn’t wish for you to be alone.  Even if it meant you finding another fella.  I’m glad you did.  I hope you were happy.”

 

She growled at him, shoving against his shoulders, toppling him back on the bed.  She climbed over him, straddling his hips.  She stood up on her knees, staring down at him, fist pulled back.  She’d never wanted to hit anyone as much as she wanted to hit Steve.

 

But he just lay there, staring up at her, making no move to defend himself.  He wasn’t afraid.  He wasn’t angry.  He just watched her.

 

She shook her head, lowering her fist, pulling her arms against her chest, cradling them to her as she crumpled in on herself.  She yelled, inarticulate, inhuman, until her throat was raw and her lungs burned.  She moved off Steve, curling into a ball on the mattress next to him, sobbing like she hadn’t since he missed their date at the Stork club.

 

She knew he was there, waiting.  

 

As she finally quieted, he rolled toward her, curling around her.  God, he was so warm.  She forgot that too.

 

She stared at the wall through puffy eyes.  “I was a shitty wife,” she said.

 

He didn’t respond, he just waited.

 

“I loved Daniel, I did.  But - “

 

“But?” Steve prompted, wrapping his arms around her, twining his fingers through hers.

 

“I didn’t have any business being with in a relationship with anybody,” she said flatly.  “I shouldn’t have married Daniel.  He deserved more than I could give him.”

 

Steve sighed, pulling her back against him tightly, forcing her to uncurl a bit.  She forgot what it was like to fight with him.  Or, rather, how impossible it was to fight with him.  Peggy excelled at pushing people’s buttons.  It was one of her greatest gifts.  But Steve refused to rise to the bait.  

 

“He must have thought you were worth it,” he said.

 

“Fuck you, Steve,” she said, but there was no venom in it.  She sighed, rolling over onto her stomach, looking at him.  “Why couldn’t you just take Sharon’s number and leave me alone?” she asked.

 

“I did leave you alone,” he pointed out reasonably.  “ _You_ found _me_.”

 

She frowned.  “Only because you didn’t know how to find me.”

 

“True,” he said, “but still,” he reached out and poked her in the chest, “ _you_ found _me_.”

 

“No one likes a smug bastard, Steve,” she said dryly.

 

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, pulling her close.  “I think some people find me sort of charming.”  He pressed a kiss to her jaw and she laughed at the absurdity of the situation.  She threaded her fingers through his hair and kissed him back, twining her leg between his.

 

They spent long minutes kissing, touching.  She pressed kisses to the scar on his chest, and its compatriot on his abdomen, causing his breath to hiss between his teeth.  She smiled against his taut stomach, one of her hands finding his belt and undoing it.  

 

The only sound in the room was his labored breathing as she pulled down the zipper on his fly.  There was a breathy, almost whine as her hand brushed against his hard cock.

 

“ _Peggy_ ,” he whispered, and she watched his hand close around a fistful of the bedspread.  

 

She worked the trousers down his hips with a little help from him.  She heard him open his mouth and she knew - she knew - he was going to apologize, so she grasped his rigid sex and licked him from root to tip.

 

His back arched so hard he nearly came off the bed and she heard him curse, “Holy fuck.”

 

She repositioned herself, kneeling between his splayed legs as she stroked him with her hand.  She caught his eye and watched as he swallowed harshly.  Making sure he was still watching her, she lowered her head and licked him again.  He was wide eyed, his mouth slightly agape.

 

She lowered her head again, breaking eye contact as she took him in her mouth.  She held the base of his sex with one hand as her other hand quickly unbuttoned her own shirt.  She bobbed her head, taking him as deep as she could before pulling back to the tip.  She released him for a moment, shrugging out of her shirt and quickly dispensing with her bra.  Steve’s eyes went wide and he stared at her chest.  She crawled over him, grasping his wrists and guiding his hands to her chest.

 

“Oh God,” he breathed as he gently cupped her breasts.  

 

Peggy arched into his touch.  She pulled her skirt up, so it was completely around her waist.  He was so hard, his flesh so engorged it was flush against his stomach.  Carefully, she ground down against him, sliding her sodden panties against his rigid flesh, gasping when the head of his cock rubbed against her clit through the wet silk.

 

“Do you have a - “ she asked.

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” he cursed.

 

She leaned down and kissed him.  “Me either,” she said sourly.  “We’re just going to have to improvise.”

 

Years of unprotected sex, some intentional, some not, had never resulted in a pregnancy, but given the outcome of the last time she and Steve were careless, Peggy wasn’t willing to risk it.  She was well beyond the naivete of thinking that bringing another child into the world could fix anything.  She climbed off the bed, quickly shimmying out of her skirt and panties.

 

Steve kicked away his trousers and underwear.  Peggy didn’t know what had happened to his shirt.  She quickly mounded the pillows up against the head of the bed and urged him to lay back on them.  As soon as he was settled, she crawled over him again, up on her knees, her hands braced against his shoulders.  She leaned down and kiss him.  One of his hands found her breast while the other kneaded her ass.

 

For long minutes, all they did was kiss and fondle, but after a while, it wasn’t enough.  She pushed herself up so she was straddling him, her knees on either side of his hips.  His hands were at her hips and he was watching her intently.  

 

Slowly, she ran her hand down her body, coming to rest at the shadowed triangle between her legs.  Steve’s eyes were fixated on her hand as she slowly sifted through the coarse hair, gently rubbing herself.  She let out a breathy sigh and rubbed harder.  Steve’s fingers bit into her hips, adding to the sensation.

 

The entire evening, all of it had been too much and she was already close.  She took Steve’s hand, guided him, showed him how to use his fingers to enter her while she continued to rub her clit.  She could heard the ragged cadence of his breathing, feel his free hand still grasping her hip.

 

With a curse, she leaned forward, kissing Steve deeply as sensation washed over her.  His fingers were still inside her, stretching her and his thumb replaced her fingers against her clit, wringing every last bit of sensation out of her climax.

 

She panted harshly, her forehead pressed to his.  Her body was slick with sweat, her legs shaky.  His hands stroked up and down her sides.

 

Finally, she pushed herself back and looked down at him.  There was liquid beading at the head of his cock.  She moved to take him into her mouth and his hand came up to her shoulder to stop her.  She shrugged off his touch, grasping him and taking him deep into her mouth.  A half dozen bobs of her head and he was yelping her name, coming hard.

 

Afterward, they spooned together, his warm body wrapped tightly around hers.  One of his hands still cupped her breast possessively, which amused Peggy to no end.  She was his weakness, and she knew it.   It was both a powerful and terrifying thought.

 

Steve was so selfless, such a stand up guy, a lot of people didn’t think of him as being a man.  But he was.  Nearly everything he did was geared toward the greater good.  He was the guy who jumped on the grenade to save a bunch of people who thought he was a joke.  He never complained, never shared his problems, never burdened anyone with anything.  He was just a good man who got the job done.

 

But there was no greater good to be found in her bed.  If he just wanted sex, there were far easier ways for him to get it, with far fewer emotional minefields.  And while she knew her tits were nice, she knew they weren’t _that_ nice.  He wasn’t here because it was easy or perfect.  He was here because he wanted to be, because it brought him pleasure and, hopefully, comfort.

 

“Goodnight, Steve,” she said.  

 

END CHAPTER


	12. Walk of Shame / 1965 / Sexting / Summer 1986

**Present Day**

 

As Steve navigated through the early morning commuter traffic back to Brooklyn, he tried to wrap his head around everything with Peggy.  He wasn’t entirely sure where he stood with her.  Were they together?  Was this a situation that Natasha would have called _friends with benefits_?  He really didn’t think so.  His relationship with Peggy was many things, but never casual.  She’d once shot at him for letting another girl kiss him, and that had all been before anything actually happened between him and Peggy.  That had to mean something.

 

 _The moment you think you know what's going on in a woman's head is the moment your goose is well and truly cooked._  Howard’s words seemed more poignant now than ever.

 

Last night had been confusing.  And emotionally painful.  And incredibly hot.  Peggy was still the sexiest thing he’d ever seen in his life.  Seventy years in a deep freeze hadn’t changed that a bit.  Sleeping next to her had been surprisingly easier than he would have imagined, especially considering that the last woman he slept next to was also Peggy.  But they just fit together.

 

Waking up was a little awkward.  At least until he returned Peggy’s favor from last night.  His scalp still hurt from where she’d pulled his hair, but he wouldn’t trade the lingering headache for the world.

 

Peggy was different now, guarded.  Or maybe she’d just never been that way with him.  When he knew her before - before the ice - they’d been allies, kindred spirits.  He wasn’t sure Peggy had any allies at this point.  Maybe she saw everyone as an enemy.

 

More than once, Phillips had affectionately called her _a real ball buster_.  But Steve knew Peggy was fighting herself far more than she was fighting him.  He knew she was afraid, and he understood why.  He didn’t hold it against her.  It took him a long time to defrost.  It was probably going to take her a while too.  He didn’t like that he was forced to cut out early this morning so he could catch a plane to the ass end of nowhere.  He needed to see Peggy.  He felt like if he waited too long, she’d just slip away again.

 

Steve parked his bike and walked to his building.  Just as he was heading up the stairs to the entrance of his building, he ran into Sharon, coming out.  “Hey,” he said, hoping to God it wasn’t completely obvious how he’d spent last night.  But he knew, as he looked at her face, that it was.

 

“Oh, God,” she said, looking away, blushing.  “I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have just shown up unannounced.”

 

“No, no,” he said.  “Just give me twenty minutes.”

 

Clearly repulsed, she said, “No, that’s okay.  My mistake.  I just wanted to tell you - ”  She sighed.  “Nevermind.  I’ll talk to you some other time.”

 

“No, Sharon, please,” he said, lightly grabbing her hand as she walked past him.

 

She stopped and turned to face him, her expression hard.  “I just wanted to tell you I got the results.  A friend fast tracked them.”

 

He nodded.

 

“Yeah,” she said, sighing and shaking her head, “it’s ... you.  Congratulations.  It’s a girl.”

 

He nodded again.  He’d already accepted their relationship as fact.  He hadn't needed genetic testing to tell him what his heart already knew, but he supposed he was glad she had what she needed.

 

Sharon just shook her head, looking at him with a frown.  “I don’t get it.”  She turned on her heel and headed down the stairs.  

 

He watched her go for several moments and then jogged after her.  “Sharon, please,” he said.  “Wait.”

 

She stopped and turned, looking at him.  Her expression was now more weary than angry.  “First off,” she said.  “ _Yuck_.  Second, she wears Shalimar.  She’s always worn Shalimar.”

 

“I, oh,” he said, falling silent.  Of course, he knew what Peggy’s perfume smelled like, but he had no idea it was called Shalimar.  And while he would have preferred a more subtle way to tell Sharon that he was seeing Peggy, it wasn’t anything he intended to hide from her.  “Yeah.”

 

Sharon frowned, shaking her head, looking truly sad.  “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

 

* * *

 

 

**1965 - New York**

 

“Dammit, Carter, you’re supposed to be getting married,” Phillips complained gruffly.

 

“Yes,” Peggy replied, eyebrow arched.  “That was the plan.  However, I got a call this morning informing me that you had to be fished out of the Hudson.  Rather put a damper on the festivities.”

 

Phillips groaned, shifting in the hospital bed.  Peggy helped him rearrange the pillows so he was more comfortable and then resumed her seat in the bedside chair.  

 

“Fell outta my damn boat,” he said, frowning.  “You didn’t need to cancel because of some stupid old bastard who can’t even keep his own ass in his boat.”

 

“It’s not a problem,” Peggy said with a smile.  “A renewal of our vows is hardly front page news.”

 

Phillips studied her for a long moment, frowning.  “Sousa couldn’t make an honest woman out of you, the first time, so he’s determined to try again, eh?”

 

“I’ve consented to renew our vows,” Peggy said crisply.  “I don’t think it’s possible to make an honest woman of me at this point.  It does make the taxes easier, though.”

 

Phillips laughed, which sparked off a coughing fit.  Peggy poured him a glass of water.  He took the glass from her, his fingers clasping around hers on the glass.  He held her gaze evenly.  “I’m glad you married Sousa,” he said quietly.  “That man must have the patience of a saint.  You changing your name this time?”

 

She smiled tightly and sat back, pulling her hand away.  “Daniel is a good man,” she said, ignoring his comment about her name.

 

“Oh, I know,” Phillips replied archly.  “I did recon on him.  When you first started dating.  I had no idea you two would take so long.  I could have been dead, for Christ’s sake, Carter.”  He sighed and looked down at his arms, which were heavily bruised, though not from the fall.  The damn medicine was killing him quicker than the cancer.

 

“Virginia said the treatment is going well,” Peggy said, conspicuously not looking at the bruises.

 

Phillips grunted noncommittally.  “Get me a smoke.”

 

Peggy frowned.  “You’re not supposed to be smoking.”

 

“I’m eighty-five goddamn years old.  I can smoke if I want.  And don’t pretend you didn’t manage to get a pack past those bitties at the desk.”

 

Sighing, Peggy opened her purse and removed a pack of cigarettes, handing them to him.  “If you’re caught, I will disavow all knowledge.”

 

He waved her off impatiently, opening the pack and lighting up, mindless of the oxygen tank nearby.  He looked at Peggy.  “Heard Stark got married last year,” he said, changing the subject.  “Never thought I’d live to see the day.”

 

“Indeed,” Peggy replied.  “Seems he’s a changed man.”

 

“You don’t agree?” Phillips asked.

 

Peggy shrugged.  “Who am I to judge?  She’s too young for him by far, but he does seem smitten.  God only knows it’s time he finally settled down, the nasty old goat.”

 

“Start a family?” Phillips pressed.

 

Peggy raised her eyebrows and looked away, remaining silent.

 

“And you, Carter?” he asked.  “Are you and Sousa going to start a family?”

 

She smiled tightly.  “We already have a family,” she said.  “Daniel is one of ten children.  We have more nieces and nephews than we know what to do with.  One is never lacking for company or sticky fingerprints on the glass.”

 

Phillips watched her for a long time, but she wouldn’t meet his gaze.  “That girl came to see me,” he finally said quietly.  “She tracked me down a couple of weeks ago.  She had a lot of questions about you and several members of the 107th.”

 

Peggy’s expression tightened.  “My apologies, sir,” she said.  “I never intended for you to be dragged into this.”

 

He snorted.  “What the hell else am I going to do with my time, Carter?” he asked. “Can’t even stay in my damn boat long enough to catch a fish.  She’s a pretty little thing, listens to all my old stories, distracts me from the fact that I’m dying.”

 

Peggy’s fingers drummed on her purse and she bit down on her lip, but she remained silent.

 

“She reminds me of you,” he said.  “Lot of piss and vinegar.  Won’t take no for an answer.  She’s right a lot, which is damn annoying.”

 

There was a flash of a smile on her lips, but it was gone in an instant.  

 

“She asks a lot of questions I can’t answer,” Phillips said.

 

Peggy looked up and smiled at him and he knew the conversation was done.  She humored him, probably more than she humored most people.  But she wasn’t going to discuss that girl with anyone, apparently.  He watched her as she stood up and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

 

“Feel better,” she said.  “Daniel and I will reschedule for next week, after you’re released.”

 

* * *

 

**Present Day**

 

Steve crossed his arms over his chest, trying to stay awake as Stark and Banner debated ... _something_ over Skype.  Truthfully, he didn’t even care what they were talking about.  He’d spent the last three days being shot at.  And when he wasn’t being shot at, he was crawling through mud and muck in the freezing rain.

 

“Just tell me what the hell I’m supposed to be looking for,” Steve snapped.

 

“Calm down, Rogers,” Tony replied.  “It’s not good for a man of your age to get too excited.”

 

Steve rolled his eyes.

 

Finally, Stark put a picture up on the screen.  “It looks like this,” he said.  “Only without the scrollwork on the bottom.”

 

“Got it,” Steve said, turning off the display before they could say anything else.  If they didn’t like the way he was taking care of business, they could damn well do it themselves.

 

Steve grabbed his muddy jacket off the back of the rickety chair and headed out the door and down the hallway, toward the market in the city square.  The market was teeming with people and livestock.

 

He saw the stall he needed, but the guy wasn’t there.  Of course not.  Why would he be?  Steve looked around the bazaar.  There were several cafes nearby, some with with balconies that had good sight lines on the stall.  

 

He sat in the beat up chair, nursing some warm beverage, the contents of which he hadn’t determined, watching the stall.  Still nothing.  He turned his head and caught something out of the corner of his eye that made him look back.  He stared across the length of the bazaar at Bucky.  

 

Slowly, Steve sat forward, watching.  He didn’t know how long Bucky had been there.  He watched as Bucky crossed the courtyard and entered the cafe downstairs.  Steve was still sitting in the chair staring down at the bazaar when Bucky took the seat next to him.  Steve looked over at him.  Bucky only held his gaze for a moment before looking away.

 

Bucky looked awful, pale and much thinner than he had last seen him.  His eyes were bloodshot and long skeins of greasy hair were poking out of his stocking cap.  His flak jacket was battered and both of his hands were covered with rough leather gloves.  He twitched every couple of seconds, flexing his hands, moving his head, shifting in his chair.  It was like it was impossible for him to sit still.

 

“I never said thank you,” Steve said quietly.  When Bucky looked at him, he continued, “For dragging me out of the Potomac.”

 

Bucky nodded and looked away.  Steve supposed that was progress.  He wasn’t the Bucky that Steve remembered, but he seemed to have some recollection that there was some relationship between the two of them beyond Steve being his mission.

 

They sat in silence for perhaps half an hour, Bucky twitching the entire time.  Steve glanced at the stall, which was still dark.  Finally, with no provocation that Steve could see, Bucky reached into the pocket of his flak jacket and pulled out something wrapped in canvas.  He nodded to Steve before he stood up and left.

 

Steve just stared after him.  He wanted to go after him, but he felt like pursuing Bucky would only push him away, so he stayed where he was.  He looked at the package on the table.  There was absolutely no telling what was in it.  Cautiously, he unwrapped it and chuckled, shaking his head.  It was that damn thing that Tony needed.

 

***

 

Steve shrugged out of his muddy jacket and set Tony’s prize on the battered table.  He pried off his boots and sat heavily on the miserable little bed.  For half a second, he debated, before taking his phone out of his bag.  He pulled up the contact and pressed it.  There were three tones and then a groggy yawn.  “How'd you get this number?”

 

He smiled.  “You programmed it in my phone.”

 

There was a pause.  “Is this Javier from the gym?”

 

He lay back on the bed, staring at the cracked ceiling.  “You're hilarious.”

 

She sighed and he could hear her rearranging herself, probably sitting up.  “Why are you calling me at three in the morning?  I don't care what Tony told you about what kids these days are doing. I'm not having phone sex with you.”

 

“I’m pretty sure the newfangled thing is sexting, grandma.”

 

“That either. Call me old fashioned, Steve, but if you want to fuck me you're going to have to come over here and do it properly.”

 

He shifted uncomfortably on the bed at the mental image.  He sighed.  There was nothing he would rather be doing.  But it wasn’t to be.  “Tempting as that is, I can’t.”

 

She made a sound of displeasure.  “Where are you?”

 

“I have no idea,” he said wearily. “Upper Slobbovia.  Some country with too much mud and too little sanitation.”

 

She was silent for several moments.  “Why are you really calling me?”

 

“I'm lonely,” he said.  “I was wondering if you wanted to go steady.  We could go to the tea dance together on Saturday afternoon.”

 

“Oh, I don't know, Captain. I’ve only known you for seventy odd years. I don't think we should rush into anything.”

 

“We could have our daughter chaperone,” he offered.  “She’s definitely old enough.”

 

She laughed, deep and throaty.  The sound made him feel warm all over.  “I miss you,” she said.  He could hear the smile in her voice.

 

“I miss you too,” he said seriously.  He sighed.  “I saw him today, Peg.  In the local market.  He beat me to my objective.”

 

She was silent.  When she spoke again, it was as a seasoned intelligence operative.  “Was he hostile?”

 

“No,” Steve said.  “At least not to me.  I’m not sure how he got the thing, but he gave it to me.  He sat down with me.  I think he understood who I was, but he’s - “

 

“Not Bucky,” she said, finishing his thought.  “I know.”  She sighed heavily.

 

“It’s just tough,” Steve said.  “To see him like that.  He looked sick, strung out.”

 

“When are you coming home?”

 

“Be there tomorrow,” he said.  “Tony’s sending a plane to meet me at some pissant little airstrip a dozen klicks from here around 2300 local.”

 

“I have a thing,” she said.  “Tomorrow.  In LA.  But I’ll figure out a way to get back on Sunday.  I want to see you.”

 

“Yeah,” he said.  “I want to see you too.”

 

“Steve.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“You need to stop by the drugstore before we see each other,” she said meaningfully.

 

“Yes, ma’am.”

 

* * *

 

 

**Summer 1986 - Los Angeles**

 

“I can’t believe you handed SHIELD over to Fury,” Howard said.  Peggy looked at him, he was nursing a bourbon at two in the afternoon.  There was a large bandage over his right eye.  He looked like shit.  He looked old and angry and half-drunk.  

 

“I didn’t hand anything over,” Peggy said dryly.  “The Council voted.”

 

Howard looked out the window at the sprawling expanse of Los Angeles.  “The Council does what you want,” he said flatly.

 

Peggy bit back a reply and waited.  She had been summoned here urgently.  And while she wasn’t particularly inclined to answer Howard’s summons these days, he’d had a close call two days ago.  Despite his sniping about Fury and SHIELD, she knew they weren’t why she was here.

 

Howard finished the bourbon and set the empty glass on the credenza.  “It wasn’t an accident.”

 

She met his gaze evenly.  “That’s not what the NTSB report says.”

 

He shook his head, baring his teeth.  “Dammit, Peggy,” he growled.  “You think I don’t know what it looks like?” he demanded.  “What I’m saying is that it wasn’t an accident.  Someone wanted it to look that way.”

 

She crossed her legs and leaned back in her chair.  “Presumably, you have a list of all the people who want you dead.  Should we go through it by geographical region, or alphabetically?”

 

He glowered at her.  “I know I’m not popular,” he said.  

 

She laughed.  “Howard, more people want _you_ dead than want _me_ dead.  That is quite an achievement.”

 

Howard turned around and grabbed the empty glass, throwing it at the wall, sending shards of crystal everywhere.  “My family was with me!” he roared.  “My family.”  He was breathing hard, his face red.  “ _Tony_ was with me.”

 

Peggy straightened up from where she had crouched away from the glass.  Slowly, she stood, dusting herself off.  She crossed her arms over her chest, looking at him.  She understood his anger and his terror.  For all of Howard’s sage advice to her in regards to Sharon, he hadn’t taken any of it himself.  His relationship with his teenage son was highly dysfunctional by any standard.

 

But Peggy also understood that, in spite of everything, Tony was the most precious thing in the world to Howard.  Not that Tony would ever understand that fact.  She felt for Howard, even though he was an asshole.

 

“I already told you, and you don’t want to hear it,” she said calmly.  “You need to stop looking for your enemies through a targeting sight and start looking in your backyard.”

 

Howard shook his head, looking away in disgust.  “Stane is - “

 

“Going to kill you one day,” Peggy said shortly.  She had tried so hard for so long to get Howard to see reason, but he was dug in.  He wouldn’t budge on the subject of Obadiah Stane.  “Or worse,” she said.  “He’s going to kill Tony.”

 

Howard chuckled mirthlessly.  “That was cheap, Peg.  Even for you.”

 

“It makes it no less true,” she said firmly.  She understood that Howard’s protective instincts toward Tony were far more developed than his own sense of self-preservation.  “If not for yourself, Howard, then for Tony and Maria.  Look into Stane. See what you find.  You know where I am if you need anything.”

 

END CHAPTER


	13. Christmas Eve 1991 / May 1996 / Coffee and a Card

**Christmas Eve 1991 - Los Angeles**

 

Jarvis opened the door and Peggy didn’t even think about it, she rushed forward, enveloping him in a hug.  For a moment, he was stiff in her arms before he melted around her, wrapping her tightly in his arms.  “I’m so sorry,” she said.

 

They finally pulled back.  Jarvis’s eyes were red rimmed and he looked awful, gaunt, heartsick.  She felt the same way.  

 

“Is Tony here?” Peggy asked.

 

Jarvis nodded, frowning tightly.  “He’s with Mr. Stane.”

 

Peggy bristled.  She’d spent the last week trying to wrest control of Stark Industries from Stane, at least until Tony was at a point that he could take over the company.  But to no avail.  The documentation Stane provided was air tight.  Peggy knew it was legitimate.  She just doubted it was current.  She hadn’t spoken with Howard recently.  They’d had another ridiculous quibble and she had been pissed at him.

 

He tried to call her three weeks ago and she hadn’t returned the call.  The next thing she knew, he was gone, along with Maria, killed in a car wreck.  It was an accident, officially.  Peggy knew better.  She suspected that Howard had finally realized what Stane really was.  And Stane had reacted with swift and violent results.  But she couldn’t prove any of it.

 

Peggy followed Jarvis through the sprawling home overlooking the Pacific Ocean.  As soon as she entered the living room, Stane was on his feet.  

 

“Ms. Carter,” he said in a way that was clearly not a greeting.

 

“Mr. Stane,” she replied in turn.

 

Tony looked up from where he was sitting the corner of an enormous sectional couch, a half empty bottle of his father’s favorite bourbon propped on his knee.  He didn’t look like he’d eaten or slept in days.   On the inside of his left arm, she could see suspicious bruising.   _Fuck_.  She walked toward him and Stane reached out, grabbing her arm in a vicelike grip, pulling her to a stop.

 

“The courts were quite clear, Ms. Carter,” he said.  “You are not allowed to have contact with Tony.  Mr. Jarvis, please call the authorities.”

 

Jarvis turned and left the room.  Peggy stood there, staring at Tony.  He finally sighed and sat forward, elbow braced on his thigh as he set the bottle of bourbon on the floor.  “It’s alright, Obi,” he said.  “Let ‘er go.”

 

Stane looked over his shoulder at Tony and frowned.

 

“It’s okay,” Tony snapped.  He waved Stane away.  Reluctantly, Stane retreated from the room.

 

Slowly, Peggy crossed the room and took a seat next to Tony.  She opened her mouth and then closed it again.  “I’m so sorry about your parents,” she said.

 

“Yeah,” Tony said quietly.  He looked over at her, eyebrow arched.  “You want to help me feel better about it.”

 

She stared at him.  “No,” she said flatly.

 

He frowned, but didn’t seem particularly surprised by her rejection.

 

Peggy smiled tightly.  She hadn’t spent very much time with Tony.  By the time he was born, her relationship with Howard was too tumultuous, as was Howard’s own relationship with Tony.  But it was interesting to see the similarities and differences between Howard and his son.

 

Howard had been the consummate performer.  He’d always been _on_ , every second of his life.  He was a hustler, working from sun up to sundown for every nickel he could make.  His appetite for _more_ could never be satiated.  Nothing would have ever been enough. He had been a brilliant inventor, with incredible business acumen, a visionary.

 

At twenty-one, Tony was a lot like his father, but there were some startling differences.  If anything, Tony was smarter than Howard, more imbued with natural charm and appeal.  He wasn’t a pretender to the throne, a robber baron, like Howard had been.  Tony was to the manor born, a member of the social and intellectual elite in a way Howard never could have been.  And unlike Howard, he wore his damage and darkness like a badge.  Perversely, it added to his natural appeal.

 

Howard and Tony both needed to prove something.  Howard needed to prove it to the world.  Tony needed to prove it to Howard - and he would never get that opportunity.  And he would probably never know that Howard never needed him to prove anything.

 

“Howard tried to get in touch with me a couple of weeks ago,” Peggy said.  “To my eternal regret, I wasn’t able to speak with him.”

 

Tony looked over at her.  “Howard trusted you,” he said.  “He didn’t trust many people, but he trusted you.”  He narrowed his gaze.  “You must have cleaned up quite a few of his messes.”

 

Peggy didn’t respond.

 

Tony sighed, picking up the bourbon bottle and looking at the label before setting it on the coffee table.  “So,” he said, “were you two fucking?”

 

Peggy just looked at him again.

 

Tony leaned in closer, eyes squinted.  “Really?” he said.  “Nothing?”  He sighed, disappointed his goading had no effect.  He sank back in the cushions.  “I went through his office.  Found a bunch of records.  One of them caught my eye, an adoption from the mid ‘40s.  Was that you?  He knock you up?  Should I worry about another Stark coming out of the woodwork to try and take my birthright?  Just so you know, I’m not going to roll over.”

 

She sighed.  “Not that it is any of your business,” she said calmly, “but Howard and I were never romantically involved.  My interest in Stark Industries was entirely for _your_ benefit.”

 

Tony just watched her.  “You don’t like Obi,” he said.

 

“Whether or not I like him is immaterial,” she said.  “I believe he was involved in your parents’ deaths.”

 

Tony shrugged.  “He says the same thing about you.”

 

Peggy nodded, unsurprised.  “So, it seems we are at an impasse.”

 

“Seems like,” Tony agreed.  “So, if you had been able to speak to Howard when he called, what do you think he would have said?”

 

Stane walked into the room, followed by two uniformed police officers.  “Probably to tell her to call off her dogs,” Stane said.  

 

Peggy’s brow furrowed and she rose to her feet.

 

“Howard was convinced that someone, or something, called the winter soldier, was after him,” Stane said.  “He seemed to hold you accountable for that.  I tried to warn him, to protect him, but he insisted on taking care of it himself.”

 

Peggy paled.  She understood Obadiah Stane well enough to know that he was one of those master manipulators who lied with the truth.  Bucky was involved in Howard’s murder?

 

“Officers,” Stane said, “if you would be so kind to escort Ms. Carter off the grounds, we would be very appreciative.”

 

The officers looked grim.  “Do you want to press charges?”

 

“No, no,” Stane said, shaking his head.  “No need.  This time.  If she attempts to make contact again, however, there will be consequences.”

 

* * *

 

**May 1996 - New York**

 

Peggy stood at Daniel’s graveside, staring at nothing.  It had been a difficult winter and spring.  Daniel.  Jarvis.  Angie wouldn’t live to see the leaves turn in Central Park.  

 

Peggy didn’t react as Sharon came to stand next to her.  Sharon was dressed in jeans and athletic shoes.  She smelled like she’d just been at a gun range.  To Peggy’s eternal irritation, Nick Fury had given Sharon a job.  Peggy wasn’t sure she was ever going to forgive him for that.

 

Sharon reached down and set a single carnation on Daniel’s grave.  Peggy wondered what Sharon thought.  Sharon and Daniel had remained in contact, long after Sharon stopped speaking to Peggy.  Daniel hadn’t been precisely paternal toward her, but he cared and Sharon knew it.

 

Peggy knew that soon enough, Sharon would arrive at this same dark place.  All of her touchpoints, her peers, would start to fade away.  All of the people who remembered her would disappear.

 

Eventually, Peggy and Sharon were going to be all each other had left.  It wasn’t a happy thought.  Peggy loved her daughter more than anything on this earth, but she wasn’t particularly fond of her company.

 

“Your message said you wanted to speak to me,” Peggy said.  Long years had taught her that staying as on point as possible with Sharon was the best approach.  She never knew what innocuous comment was going to close Sharon off.  

 

Peggy turned toward the neatly manicured path that wound around the cemetery grounds.  Sharon fell into step next to her.  “I had an interesting conversation,” Sharon said.  “With Tony Stark.”

 

“No doubt,” Peggy said dryly, steeling herself for the worst.  “Tony is certainly never boring.  I suppose I should ask you what you discussed.”

 

“My father,” Sharon said.

 

Peggy stopped walking and turned to face her daughter.  “Oh really?”

 

Sharon looked away, shaking her head in obvious irritation.  “Tony found records that he thinks are related to my adoption.”

 

Peggy sighed.  She took a deep breath and tried to remind herself that Sharon was an adult - that she had been an adult for decades.  While her words and demeanor were often abrasive, she did not bother Peggy over trivialities.  That, in itself, was probably the rub.  There was nothing casual or light about a conversation with Sharon.  It was all accusations and bitter disappointment.

 

“Yes,” Peggy said. “I know about the records Tony found.”  She resumed walking.

 

“Are they mine?” Sharon asked.

 

“I assume you know they are,” Peggy said.  “You only ask me questions when you think that you already know the answer, consummate fact checker that you are.”

 

Sharon was quiet for a long time and Peggy could almost hear her grinding her teeth.  “Tony thought I might be his sister.”

 

“I already told him that line of inquiry was a dead end,” Peggy said.  “I was never involved with Howard, though I trust that you and Tony went ahead with genetic testing anyway.”

 

Sharon didn’t reply.

 

“Well, at least now Tony knows you’re not after his trust fund,” Peggy said.  “You have as much in common genetically with Tony as you do with Nick Fury.”

 

“Tony found other records,” Sharon said, “from the war.”

 

Peggy frowned.  She’d always known Howard lied about destroying those records.  The bastard.

 

“There were files related to Sergeant Barnes,” Sharon said.  “I wasn’t a genetic match with Tony, but there were a lot of similarities between my samples and the records on Sergeant Barnes.  There wasn’t an actual sample to compare to Barnes, but the chemical compounds, some of the genetic markers, they were the same.”

 

Peggy stopped walking and turned to Sharon, shaking her head.  “I tried to tell you thirty years ago, and you wouldn’t listen then.  I assume you won’t listen now, but James Barnes has nothing to do with you.  Your samples resemble Barnes’ because _my_ samples resemble Barnes’, because we were both experimented on by the same pack of psychopaths.  You are meddling in information you do not understand.”

 

“You traded him to the KGB for me,” Sharon said, throwing it down like a gauntlet.

 

Peggy nodded.  “I did,” she said unapologetically.  “And I would make the same choice again and again.  Bucky was a dear friend.  But he was a soldier.  You were my child.”

 

Sharon shook her head, her irritation and upset clear on her features.  “I don’t understand why you keep treating this like it’s all some giant fucking secret!” Sharon shouted.  “How can you think people don’t know?  It’s been fifty goddamn years.  It’s ancient history to everyone but you.”

 

Sharon crossed her arms tightly over her chest, pacing in a tight circle before coming back and glaring at Peggy.  “It’s a joke in some circles,” Sharon said.  “How you were the mascot of the 107th.  Were you just passed from guy to guy?  I know there were rumors about you being Cap’s girl, but _there are reports_ , for fuck’s sake, Margaret.  There’s one from your landlady about two of the Howling Commandos having to be forcibly removed from your bedroom about nine months before I was born.  Hell, when you brought me to New York, you were rushing home for Barnes.  They found you sleeping in his cell.  Are you embarrassed?  Is that it?  Is it that you just don’t know who my father is?”

 

The slap took them both off guard.  Peggy was only vaguely aware of how her fingers stung.  She watched the red handprint rise on Sharon’s cheek.  

 

Peggy stepped close to Sharon, shaking, breathing hard.  “You are never going to find it in some dusty file because I spent years destroying every bit of evidence that could link you to him,” she said, voice trembling.  “Steve Rogers was your father.  And he died.  Without ever knowing about you.”  

 

Peggy let out a shaky breath, overwhelmed at the fact that she’d finally spoken those words.  She had never actually said them before.  Not to anyone.  Not even to herself.  

 

“I’m glad Steve’s dead,” Peggy said through tears.  “I’m glad he never knew.  Because it would _kill_ him to see what we’ve become.”

 

Sharon touched her fingertips to her reddened cheek, shaking her head in confusion.  “Captain America?”

 

“The single greatest scientific achievement of a generation,” Peggy said darkly, tears streaming down her cheeks.  “And a good man.”  She shook her head, looking away.  “Billions of dollars and countless lives have been spent trying to replicate his success.  If anyone had known that you were his daughter - “  She laughed, a broken sound.  She looked back to Sharon.  “But it’s your life,” she said.  “I did everything possible in my power to keep you safe, to keep you off the radar. But if none of that matters to you, then fine.  Do whatever you want.  Tell Tony.  Tell Fury.  I’m sure they’ll be endlessly fascinated.  You finally have the only thing you ever needed from me.  His name.  Enjoy.”

 

Peggy turned on her heel and stalked toward her car.

  
  


***

 

It was twilight and Peggy was sitting on her sofa nursing her third glass of port.  She heard the lockpick in the door and waited.  She shocked Sharon today.  That, in itself, was shocking.  And so fucking depressing.  

 

After all the jokes, the taunts, that Peggy had endured over the years about being Cap’s girl, about serving _under_ a captain, her own daughter had never even considered that Steve might have been her father.  

 

Sharon had found it more plausible that Peggy had slept with half the regiment, and Howard, apparently.  Peggy knew that it must have been Sharon’s affection for Daniel that had prevented her from confronting Peggy earlier.  But now that Daniel was dead, apparently the gloves were off.

 

She felt the cushion depress under Sharon’s weight.

 

“What did Tony say when you told him?” Peggy asked dully.

 

“I didn’t tell him,” Sharon said quietly.  “I’m not going to tell him.  Or Fury.”

 

Peggy looked over at her daughter, truly shocked.  Sharon looked as bad as Peggy felt, eyes bloodshot, cheek still red.  “I’m sorry,” Peggy said quietly.  “I didn’t mean to strike you.  I shouldn’t have done that.”

 

Sharon looked away, ignoring the comment.  “Was Steve Rogers really my father?”

 

“Yes,” Peggy said flatly.  “But know that if anyone else asks, I will deny it to my dying day.  Whenever the hell that is.”

 

“I will keep your secret on one condition,” Sharon said.

 

Peggy waited.

 

“I want you to acknowledge me.  Publically.  As your family.  Not necessarily as your daughter, I don’t care what story you make up.  You enjoy lying so much I’m sure you can come up with something good.  But I want _my_ name.  The name I was born with.”

 

“Fine,” Peggy relented.

 

“And I want one other thing.”

 

Peggy turned and met Sharon’s gaze.  

 

“I want you out of my life.  Completely,” Sharon said.  “I’m done with you.”

 

Peggy sat there, listening as Sharon left, locking the door behind herself.

 

* * *

 

**Present Day**

 

There was a knock at the door.  Steve rubbed his eyes, looking at the clock.  He’d only gotten home a few hours earlier and was trying to catch some sleep.  Who wanted to see him at nine o’clock on a Sunday morning?  

 

He opened the door to find Sharon standing there, coffees and a sack in her hands.  Smiling tightly, she said, “I, uh, owe you a coffee.”

 

He stepped aside so she could come in.  She set the coffees and the sack, which apparently contained bagels, on the kitchen counter and Steve motioned to an empty barstool.  After she took a seat, he did the same.

 

“This is in no way a complaint,” Steve said, taking the bag of bagels and glancing inside.  “But what’s the occasion?”  Sharon had been pretty adamant, last time, that she wouldn’t drop by unannounced, so he was doubly surprised to see her.

 

She gave him a wry smile.  “I know Margaret’s in L.A.,” she said.  “And also, this.”  She took a card out of her bag and handed it to him.  

 

Frowning, Steve opened it.  It was a Father’s Day card, completely generic, but signed ‘ _XO -S_ ’.  He stared at it for a long moment and then coughed conspicuously.

 

Sharon handed him one of the coffees and he took a big drink, relishing the way the liquid scalded his tongue, distracting him to the point that he probably wasn’t going to burst into tears like a gigantic dope.  Probably.

 

Carefully, he set the card on the table and he reached over and enveloped Sharon in a hug.  She was stiff in his arms for several heartbeats, but she finally relaxed, returning the hug.  When he released her, her eyes were suspiciously shiny.  He was sure his were as well.

 

“I guess you must not get a lot of those,” she said cautiously.

 

“I, uh, no,” he said, laughing.  “Uh, never.  You’re ... _it_.  No one else is going to send me one of these cards.”

 

She shrugged, fiddling with her own coffee cup.  Steve took note of the insignia on her shirt, CIA, and the badge clipped to her belt.  She must have been on her way into the office.  “I’ve never given one to anyone before,” she said cautiously.  “But I didn’t know about you.  There’s the whole exhibit at the Smithsonian, but it’s not like they’d include anything potentially scandalous.  I’m obviously not part of it.  And, I mean, you’ve been back for a couple of years now.”

 

He just shook his head.

 

“No one?” she asked, looking rather sad on his behalf.

 

“No one serious other than - “

 

“Margaret,” Sharon finished for him, sighing.  She shook her head mutely, staring at the countertop.  She looked over at him, frowning.  “You seem like a really nice guy.”

 

“Uh .. thanks?” he said.  He was pretty sure it wasn’t a compliment.

 

She looked at him, brow furrowed in confusion.  “I just don’t get it.  Why do you keep trying with her?”

 

Steve shrugged, sighing.  “I have faith.”

 

Sharon laughed mirthlessly.  “But how can you have faith _in her_?”

 

He drummed his fingers on the coffee cup, searching for an answer that would hold any traction with Sharon.  He doubted there were many.  “Because she had faith in me.  When everyone else had written me off.  She expected more from me.”

 

Sharon looked at him and Steve decided he was really getting sick of all the women in his life looking at him like that, like he was an idiot for believing.  

 

“Look,” he said gently.  “I get it.  I was on ice for seventy years and I get back and everything is just completely screwed up.  I take responsibility for that.  I do.  I can’t go back and undo it, but I can try and make things better now.”  

 

He took a deep breath.  “But some things I just know.  I understand that you and Peggy have your ... _issues_.  And I really don’t want to get in the middle of that.  And I don’t want to make light of it.  But I know her.  I know she’s a good person, even if she forgets it at times.  I think maybe she just needs someone to remind her, someone to believe in her.”

 

Sharon frowned and stared at her coffee. “Yeah, well, let me know how that goes.  Most people who think that about her end up regretting it.”

 

He was spared a reply by a knock on the door.  He never had visitors, now two in one morning?  Leaving Sharon at the kitchen counter, he went to the door.  He opened it to find Sam standing there.

 

“Man, you’ve been ditching me for days,” he said.  He was dressed in a sweatshirt and shorts and had obviously just been out running.

 

Steve stepped aside and let him into the apartment.  “I’m not ditching you, I’ve been busy.  I just got back last night.”

 

“Busy with wh - _oh, hey_ ,” he said when he saw Sharon sitting at the counter, having breakfast.  He elbowed Steve in the ribs.  “I guess you didn’t need my help.”

 

“It’s not like that,” Steve said darkly.

 

Sam looked to Sharon who smiled tightly.  “I’m his daughter,” she said bluntly.  “I brought him breakfast for Father’s Day.  Bagel?”

 

Sam’s brow furrowed and he looked back to Steve who just shrugged.

 

“If it’s any help, I’ll be seventy next year,” Sharon offered with a bright smile.

 

Sam looked from Steve to Sharon and back again.  “Your shit is so crazy I can’t even tell if y’all are fucking with me.”

 

“Welcome to my world,” Steve said wearily.  He took a seat next to Sharon, leaving Sam standing in the middle of the tiny kitchen.  “Sharon,” he said, “this is my friend, Sam Wilson.  Sam, this is my daughter, Sharon Carter.”

 

“For real?” Sam asked, staring at him hard.  “ _For real_ , for real?”

 

“For real,” Steve replied.

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Sam swore, but held out his hand to shake Sharon’s hand.  They’d seen each other in passing before, but there hadn’t been time for introductions.

 

The three talked for the next half hour about fairly innocuous subjects as they made their way through the coffee and bagels.  Eventually, Sharon made her excuses and left, with a promise to get in touch with Steve later, when her work schedule lightened up.

 

Sam took a seat on the barstool Sharon had vacated, looking over at his friend.  “What the hell, man?  Seriously.   _What. The. Hell._ ”

 

Steve frowned, shaking his head.  “I’m not getting into the details,” he said.  “But it’s like she said.  She’s my daughter.  She’ll be seventy next year.”

 

“So she’s like you, some superhuman or something?”

 

“Something like that,” he said.  “I know she doesn’t age like most people.  Beyond that, I haven’t asked.”

 

Sam whistled, bracing his elbows on the counter.  “Seventy years.  She looks damn good.”  He seemed to catch himself and think better of saying more in front of Steve.  He cleared his throat.  “So she was born after you went in the ice?”

 

Steve nodded.  “I only found out a couple of weeks ago.”

 

Sam shook his head.  “Damn, son.”  He clapped Steve on the back.  “Well, congratulations.  You know, seventy years too late.”

 

Steve shrugged and smiled.  “Better late than never, I guess.”

 

They were quiet for a while and then Sam said, “So her mom must have passed, huh?”

 

“Passed?” Steve asked, brow furrowed.  “Uh, no.  No, she’s ... fine. You saw her the other day in the garden.  Peggy.”

 

Sam just stared at him.  He opened his mouth and then closed it again, frowning.  “The _dragonlady_?  You’re telling me that the dragonlady is your baby mama?”

 

“Dragonlady?  Baby mama?  I don’t - “ Steve said, frowning.

 

“The woman, from the roof the other night,” Sam pressed, his shock evident on his face.  “She’s Sharon’s mother?”

 

Steve nodded.  “Yeah.  Peggy.  You know her?”

 

“Hell, _no_ , I don’t know her,” Sam swore, as if the idea was beyond ridiculous.  “But I know who she is.  And I know that people way above my pay grade were very determined to keep her happy.”  He stared at Steve.  “So you and she ... you - “ He motioned with his hands.  “ ... seventy years ago?”

 

Steve nodded.  “Yeah.”  He looked away, wincing.  “It’s not ... entirely past tense.  Anymore.”

 

“Oh, my god,” Sam swore, laughing.  “Captain America and the dragonlady.  How is this even possible?  I always took for you for, like, pretty little petite blonde homemaker wife type.  I mean, everyone has the things they let their freak flag fly for, but damn.  If you're sleeping with her, you’re braver than I ever gave you credit for.”

 

Steve frowned at Sam.  “It’s not like that,” he said seriously.  “For one, she’s my age.  Which, is kinda hard to come by.  And second, we have a long history.”

 

Sam laughed harder.  “History.  That’s a good one, man.  Most people don’t mean that quite as literally as you.”

 

END CHAPTER


	14. Fishbowl and Tapas / August 1996

**Present Day - Stark Tower**

 

“Calm down, Princess,” Barton barked.  He was sitting on top of one of the big conference tables, idly tapping something into his cell phone.  Steve suspected he was playing a game.

 

Steve looked up to see Sam glaring at Barton from inside the saferoom.  Saferoom was a misnomer, more of Tony’s humor, Steve was certain.  It was a heavily reinforced room inside the R&D floors of Stark Tower, engineered to be able to contain Banner if his alter ego got out of hand.  That was the theory anyway.  It hadn’t been put to the test thanks to the growing bond between Banner and Natasha.

 

“Get me the hell out of here,” Sam barked, his voice sounding tinny over the intercom speaker at Barton’s side.  

 

Barton continued idly tapping on his phone.  “I already told ya, I’m waiting on Arjun to get here.”  He looked up and saw that Sam was getting ready to start pounding on the glass.  “ _Eh! Eh!_ ” he chided.  “I already told you, don’t bang on the glass.”

 

Steve looked from Sam back to Barton.  “Did Stark already hook up the gas lines?”

 

Barton looked over at Steve, covering the intercom microphone with his hand.  “I don’t think so,” he admitted.  He moved his hand so Sam could hear.  “But the gas is some experimental stuff Stark picked up on the black market.  He thinks it’s enough to bring down Banner on a bad day, Wilson.  It’ll kill you.  The trigger is tied to pressure sensors in the walls.”

 

“Ya’ll are a bunch o’ assho-”  

 

Barton muted the line and looked at Steve.

 

“How long has he been in there?” Steve asked.

 

“About an hour,” Barton said blandly.  “I told him to stay out, but the cell has sightlines on Natasha’s bunk for obvious reasons.”  He sighed.  “Anyway, the door’s stuck again.  Arjun is supposed to be on his way to fix it.  After he takes care of the vending machine on thirty.  I told him not to rush.”

 

Steve frowned, watching Sam, who was now standing in the middle of the saferoom, arms crossed over his chest, glaring like a wet cat.  The saferoom was, by design, a fishbowl.  Apparently the idea was that if Banner was in there, he would be easier to subdue if he could see Natasha.  Steve wasn’t sure he believed it, but he didn’t have a better idea.

 

“Do you think that gas will really take out the hulk?” Steve asked Barton.

 

“I asked the same thing,” Barton said, looking up from his phone.  “Supposedly it’s some nasty stuff, a pesticide gone wrong with some really unintended consequences.  But given that Banner’s abilities are tied directly to his mental state ... eh.”  He shrugged.  “I believe the official answer was ... _maybe_.”

 

“Oh, well, that’s reassuring,” Steve said dryly.

 

“As reassuring as anything is around here these days,” Barton said, going back to his phone.  

 

Steve was still looking at Sam when his own phone rang.  He checked the number and immediately turned back toward the room he used, just off Banner’s lab.  He listened for a minute.

 

“No,” Steve said firmly, shutting the door behind himself.

 

“What do you mean no?” Peggy snapped.  The connection popped with static.  She was in a cab somewhere.

 

“ _No_ ,” he said again, holding the phone to his ear with one hand as he used the other to move his gym bag out of his chair. He’d tried to go back to sleep after Sharon and Sam left, but he couldn’t, so he’d decided to do something useful.  He’d met up with Sam at Stark Tower and they’d hit the gym pretty hard.  After they finished, Steve had worked through some holster designs with one of Tony’s fabricators.  Sam had apparently taken the opportunity to get himself stuck in the saferoom.

 

Steve sighed.  “Peggy, I’m not meeting you at your storage facility office, whatever the hell that loft is.  I will meet you at _my_ place, or I will meet you at _your_ place.  Your real place.  Where you _live_.”

 

“Dammit, Steve - “ she started.

 

“You heard me,” he replied flatly.  “You’re not going to put me in one little corner of your life.  Take it, or leave it.”

 

She hung up on him.  

 

Steve frowned at the phone, but he smiled as she immediately texted him an address on the upper west side.  He still needed to go to the drugstore.

 

***

 

By the time he showered and changed and made it through traffic, it was early evening.  Steve knocked on the door to Peggy’s apartment.  She opened the door a crack and narrowed her eyes at him for a moment before allowing him inside.  Her hair was loose, in messy waves and she wore a tight gray t-shirt and a pair of dark jeans that molded to her long legs.  She was barefoot.

 

Steve admired the way the jeans hugged her curves as he set his bag by the door.  She led him through the entryway and into her apartment.  Steve whistled as he looked around.  Unlike the loft, this space was warm, lived in.  There were lots of rich woods and warm colors on the walls.  One space flowed into the next with lots of personal touches.  “Your foyer is bigger than my entire apartment,” he said.

 

She smiled.  “The benefit of making long term financial plans,” she said, leaning against the large marble island in the middle of her kitchen and living room.  “I bought Microsoft and Apple in the early eighties just to piss off Howard.  Best financial decision I ever made.  Paid off in spades.”

 

Steve shook his head and smiled at her, catching his finger on one of her belt loops and pulling her close.  She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him eagerly.  She finally pulled back.  “You need to stop letting Tony send you on his errands,” she complained.

 

“Part of the deal,” Steve said, shrugging.  “Tony pays for everything. I do the leg work.”

 

She sighed, leaning into him, running her fingers over his back, holding him close.

 

“I saw Sharon this morning,” he said.

 

“Ah,” Peggy said, sounding unsurprised.  “It’s Father’s Day.  Did she get you a card?”

 

“Yes.”

 

She looked up at him and he couldn’t read anything in her expression.  She lowered her head again, leaning against him.  “That’s nice,” she said.  “Did she warn you stay away from me?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Peggy nodded against his chest.

 

“You don’t have a response to that?” he asked.

 

Peggy sighed.  “It means she cares about you,” she said.  “I’m glad.  At least one of her biological parents isn’t a complete disappointment.  She’s trying to protect you.”  She shrugged.  “Though I am selfishly happy that you seem to be ignoring her advice.  You might try pointing out to her that you’re not quite as helpless as you look.”

 

Steve frowned, holding Peggy tighter.  “She just doesn’t know you like I know you.”

 

“No one knows me like you know me,” Peggy said quietly.

 

Steve pulled back, forcing her to look at him.

 

“Jesus, Steve,” she said, irritated, “I’m not being maudlin, I’m just being honest.  Everyone else is dead.”

 

“Yeah,” he said wryly.  “I noticed.”  He pulled on her hand.  “Come on, get some shoes, we’re going out.”

 

“I don’t want to go out,” she complained.  “Let’s order in.”

 

“No,” he said firmly, shaking his head.  “We’re going out.”

 

She sighed, but went to get her shoes.

 

***

 

A light rain had started to fall outside and the restaurant was packed.  Peggy wedged herself into the corner of the bar next to Steve and ordered for them in Spanish.

 

“What the hell is tapas?” Steve asked as the server set several little plates in front of them.

 

“Just so you know, you sound every second of your ninety-five years right now.  It’s food,” she said, taking an olive and popping it in his mouth.  He chewed, frowning.  “It beats the hell out of K-rations.  Stop complaining.  You’re the one who wanted to go out.”

 

“Oh, K-rations are our basis for comparison now?” he asked.  

 

Peggy ignored him, eating an olive.

 

He looked at the bar.  “Did you want a glass of wine or something?” he asked.

 

She shook her head, taking a drink of water.  “I don’t drink.”  The way she said it made him think there was a lot more to the story than that, but it could wait for another time.  She narrowed her gaze at him.  “Speaking of, why do you drink?”

 

He shrugged.  “To be social, mostly,” he said.  “Unless Thor’s around.  He’s brought some Asgardian stuff to a few of the team get togethers.”  Steve frowned.  Just remembering made him slightly queazy.

 

Peggy just shook her head at him.  “You went drinking with a demigod?  How did you possibly think that could turn out well?”

 

He sighed.  “In hindsight, it was clearly a bad idea,” he admitted.  “But in my defense, no alcohol has had any effect on me since Erskine’s formula.  How could I have known?”

 

She just frowned at him.  “You’re such a trusting soul.  I know why Sharon worries about you.”  He shoved her playfully with his shoulder and she laughed.  She leaned into him, kissing him on the cheek and he felt warm all over.  “What are the team get togethers like?” she asked, curiosity sparkling in her eyes.

 

He shrugged.  “They’re getting better,” he said.  “They almost never end with the National Guard being called out anymore.”  He looked at her, smiling.  “I’ll take you to the next one.”

 

She looked at him and he wasn’t sure what to make of her expression.  She picked up a piece of cheese and popped it in her mouth, chewing.  “So we’re going public, then?” she asked.

 

He looked around.  “This is pretty public.”

 

“You know what I mean,” she said quietly.

 

He took a deep breath.  “I am _really_ over missed opportunities at this point.  I have no interest in anything casual,” he said.  “I’m not broadcasting the fact that we’re together, but I love you.  I want to be with you.  I’m pretty sure you feel the same way.”

 

She nodded slowly.  “I do.”  She sighed.  “What are you going to tell Sharon?”

 

He grimaced.  “She already knows.  I, uh, ran into her on the way back from your place the other morning.”

 

Peggy pursed her lips together and he could tell she was trying not to laugh.  “Sharon caught your walk of shame?”

 

“It wasn’t that shameful,” Steve said defiantly.

 

“Oh, yes it was,” Peggy said with a knowing smile.  “It was.”  She burst into a fit of laughter.

 

He knew he was blushing.  “Yeah, so anyway,” he said, changing the subject.  “Sharon already knows.  It’s just the team that’s left.  Well, everyone except Sam.  He knows.”

 

She looked at him and smiled warily, looping her arm through his.  “Oh, this party is going to be fun,” she said dryly.

 

He frowned.  “Why do you say that?”

 

She looked at him incredulously.  “Steve, I spent several decades as Fury’s boss.  I’ve known Tony since before he was born.  I helped recruit Natasha and half of the former SHIELD operatives.  Dr. Banner’s incident was due in part to the fact that I blocked General Ross’s access to the Project Rebirth data.  I have history with almost all of them, whether they know it or not.”

 

Steve blinked at her.  She had a point.  “You don’t know Thor,” he finally said.

 

“No,” she said with a laugh.  “I don’t know Thor.  What’s he like when he’s not plying impressionable young humans with space booze?”

 

“Oh, he’s great,” Steve said, deadpan.  “I love having him around.  He’s older than me by several _thousand_ years.  He’s even worse at pop culture references than me.  He can’t drive.  He sounds like a walking, talking renaissance festival.  He’s great.”

 

“He is the god of thunder though,” Peggy said.

 

Steve nodded.  “Yeah, he does have that going for him.  But that’s really all he has.”

 

* * *

 

**August 1996 - New York**

 

Peggy was leaning against the terrace railing, looking out at the glittering Manhattan skyline.  As Nick joined her, she said, “Thank you for meeting me here.”

 

“My pleasure,” he said easily.  “Not often I get invited to a Security Council member’s private residence.  Gave me the opportunity to go through your medicine cabinet.  Far be it from me to make suggestions, but I’m surprised a woman of your age isn’t taking calcium supplements.”

 

Peggy frowned at him in mock censure.  “Speaking of a woman my age,” she said, “that’s why I invited you here.”

 

He waited, quiet.

 

“I need to die,” she said blandly.

 

“I’m going to assume you mean figuratively,” he said.

 

“Several attempts at a more literal application have proved fruitless,” she said dryly.  “So, yes.  Figuratively.  Councilwoman Carter needs to die.  Publically.  Permanently.”

 

He nodded.  “Shouldn’t you be talking to Pierce about this?”

 

“I don’t want to talk to Pierce about this,” she said.  “I don’t trust him.  I don’t want anyone to know.  It has to look convincing.”

 

Nick paused.  “I’m sorry about Daniel,” he said.  “And your friend, Angie.  I saw the obit last week.”

 

Peggy took a deep breath.  “Most of my financial assets have already been liquidated,” she said.  “My private files have been moved, secured.  I transferred quite a few things to you.  You should look through them.  They may prove enlightening.”

 

“What about your niece?” Nick asked.

 

Peggy pursed her lips together.  “Let her know,” she said.  “ _Before_.  But don’t expect much of a reaction.”

 

“So I guess this is it then,” Nick said quietly.

 

Peggy turned to him and nodded.  “I guess it is.”

 

END CHAPTER


	15. The Disintegration of Peggy Carter - November 2009 / May 5, 2012 / Present Day New York

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will be the last one to contain flashbacks. After this, everything will be taking place in the present tense. (That's the plan anyway).

**November 2009 - Shindand Air Base, Afghanistan**

 

“Where are they?” Peggy snapped.

 

“Coming in now, ma’am.”

 

Peggy walked out onto the tarmac and watched as the chopper landed.  The two PJs, Riley and Hopper, jumped out and unloaded a stretcher.  Only one.  Dammit.  It was Natasha.  Medics rushed onto the field, assisting the PJs in getting her into the back of a waiting ambulance.

 

Peggy watched the ambulance blaze off toward the hospital.  She was aware that several more PJs had walked onto the tarmac and were watching.  This wasn’t exactly keeping a low profile.  Every bit of this mission had been a total disaster.

 

Peggy wasn’t part of SHIELD anymore.  She didn’t technically exist.  But she freelanced from time to time, typically out of boredom.  Fury called in a favor.  An Iranian Nuclear Scientist needed to be extracted.  Peggy had taken the job, bringing Natasha along to do the legwork. The whole thing went tits up outside of Darvaza.

 

“Will there be anything else, ma’am?” the Colonel asked.

 

“No.  Thank you, Colonel.”

 

Peggy turned and walked toward the Jeep, her heels biting into the asphalt.  She could hear the newly arrived PJs asking their CO what the hell was going on.  If Peggy had been left another choice, she wouldn’t have pulled Rescue Rangers off their regular mission.  But she hadn't had a choice.  She had to get Romanov and Ahmadi out.

 

***

 

Peggy sat in the uncomfortable plastic chair watching the steady beeps marking Natasha’s heartbeat.  The surgery took hours.  She lost a lot of blood and was very lucky to be alive.  It was Peggy’s fault that Natasha was here at all.  Fury didn’t lend her out, but he’d made an exception in this case.  Peggy had helped initially recruit Natasha, during another fit of boredom - ennui, Angie would have called it.  

 

Peggy and Natasha had a bond, of sorts, forged on their inherent similarities.  They were both lonely creatures and when cornered, could be vicious.  They both knew what it meant to make hard choices and live with the consequences.  They were both damn good at what they did.   _Usually_.

 

Natasha blinked her eyes open.  “What’s the damage?” she asked, her voice dry and raspy from being intubated during surgery.

 

“Perforated intestine,” Peggy replied.  “You were lucky.  They said you nearly bled out in the chopper.”

 

Natasha stared at the ceiling.  “Don’t feel lucky.”

 

“No,” Peggy agreed, “though it’s safe to assume you’re luckier than Dr. Ahmadi.”

 

Natasha took a deep breath, wincing.  “How’d you get me out?”

 

“Pararescue,” Peggy replied.  Natasha lifted her head off the pillow to arch an eyebrow at her.  “I know,” Peggy said.  “Nick can yell at me later.  It was either the PJs or leave you there to die.”

 

Natasha frowned, glancing over at Peggy, her eyes hard.  “It was _him_.”

 

Peggy went very still.  “Him?”

 

Natasha swallowed thickly.  “The Winter Soldier.”

 

 _Fuck_.  “The Winter Soldier is a ghost story,” Peggy said tightly.

 

“Yeah,” Natasha replied.  “He has a hell of a good aim for a ghost.  He shot Ahmadi _through_ me.  Would have finished me off.  I’m guessing pararescue must have scared him away.”

 

“More likely they scared his handlers,” Peggy said tightly.  “He doesn’t scare.  There’s not enough human left in him to scare.”

 

Natasha blinked at her.  “So you believe the stories?”

 

Peggy laughed mirthlessly.  After so many years, she was tired of the game.  All the lies, all the misdirection.  What had any of it gotten her?   Nothing.  And today it almost got Natasha killed.  

 

“I could have ended him decades ago,” Peggy said tightly, not at all sure why she was admitting this to Natasha.  Other than that it had been years since she’d had an honest conversation with anyone.  Natasha nearly died today because of mistakes Peggy made half a century ago.

 

Natasha looked back at the ceiling.  “Why didn’t you?”  There were no recriminations in the question, only curiosity.

 

“Because his handlers had my daughter.”

 

Natasha looked at her again, held her gaze for a long moment.  “Sharon,” she said quietly.

 

Peggy nodded.  “Did Nick tell you?”

 

“If he knows anything, he’s never said it to me,” Natasha replied.  “Though the whole grand-niece thing is one of the weakest cover stories ever invented.”  Peggy frowned.  “Just sayin’,” Natasha finished.

 

“In my defense,” Peggy said, “it’s not likely that someone is going to expect that I gave birth to Sharon Carter in 1945.”

 

Natasha’s eyes went wide.  “No,” she agreed, “that’s probably not a leap many people are going to make.”

 

* * *

 

**Two days later - Paris**

 

Peggy watched Nick pace the living room of her flat.  He was pissed.  Pissed that Natasha got shot.  Pissed that Ahmadi was dead.  Pissed that the Winter Soldier refused to stay a ghost story.  She took another drink of the wine.  He could be as pissed as he wanted.  It didn’t change anything.

 

“How does a goddamn ghost steal my asset out from under my nose?” he demanded.

 

“Do you want the truth, or do you want me to make you feel better?” she asked blandly.

 

He narrowed his eye at her.  

 

“You have a mole, Nick.  Or moles.  I don’t know.  But someone’s dirty.”

 

“How do I know it’s not you?” he demanded.  “This is the first time I’ve called you in since ‘01 and this is the first op to go south like this.”

 

“To my recollection, I was having a grand time in Bolivia when you found me.  Did it appear that I was plotting to steal one of your assets when you found me engrossed in that beautiful idiot from the doll factory?”

 

Nick shook his head, irritation clear on his features.  “What the hell happened to you, Peggy?” he asked.  “You used to be good.  You used to care.”

 

“I used to have things to care _about_ ,” she said, surprising herself.

 

He nodded and she realized he’d goaded her into her confession.  “I thought that might be the case,” he said.  

 

He took a deep breath and sat on her coffee table, directly in front of her, their knees almost touching.  “I’m putting together a task force,” he said quietly.  “With some lofty goals.”

 

She took another drink of wine, watching him.  “What kind of lofty goals?”

 

He frowned.  “Tony Stark changed the playing field with Iron Man,” he said.  “He can do a lot of good, but he’s not what we need right now.  He’s jaded, bitter, entitled.  He isn’t a rally point.”

 

Peggy snorted.  “And you think the world needs a rally point?”

 

“Hell yes the world needs a rally point,” Nick swore.  “Have you bothered to read the papers in the last decade?  We don’t need another vigilante one percenter dictating the news cycle with his latest shiny toy.”

 

“And what, exactly, do you think the world needs, Nick?”

 

He was quiet a moment.  He leaned forward, watching her carefully.  “Hope,” he said.

 

She laughed mirthlessly.  “And _you_ intend to give that to them?”

 

He shrugged.  “If I can,” he said.  “That’s the point of the task force.  We’re going on a bit of a buried treasure hunt.”

 

“To find your hope?” Peggy asked incredulously.

 

“To find Steve Rogers.”

 

Peggy dropped the glass of wine.  She watched absently as the crystal shattered on the hardwood floor.

 

“Look,” Nick said, holding his hands up to her in surrender.  “I know.  I know you knew Rogers in the war.  But I’m asking because - “

 

“Because you want to find his body?” Peggy seethed, pushing herself off the couch, past Nick.  “Howard searched for him for months on end.  There was nothing to find.”

 

He turned to look at her.  “Not to be smug, but our tech is a hell of a lot better now,” Nick said.  He slowly stood.  “Peggy, I know it might be hard for you, but think of what we can accomplish if we are able to recreate Erskine’s formula.”

 

“No,” she said, shaking her head.  “No.”

 

“I want you to lead the taskforce,” Nick said.  “It won’t be a quick process.  If he was easy to find, someone would have done it by now.”

 

“I will _never_ help you with this,” she swore.  “You saw Natasha lying in that bed.  That’s what comes from desecrating the dead.”  She turned and walked out of the apartment without a backward glance.

* * *

  
  


**May 5, 2012 - Dubai**

 

Peggy rolled out of the bed naked, leaving Kashif asleep, face down on the rumpled sheets.  The penthouse windows had automatically dimmed against the blazing desert sun outside.  She raked her fingers through her hair, shaking the dirty locks back out of her face.  She pulled the vodka bottle out of the ice bucket.  The ice had all melted.  She wasn’t a fan of warm vodka, but needs must.  Lifting the bottle to her lips, she drained what was left.

 

Grimacing, she set the bottle down and walked to the sunken media area.  She sat on the couch, absently flipping on the television as she reached for the pipe in the middle of the coffee table.  She waved the lighter under the pipe, inhaling deeply, only half paying attention to the images on the enormous TV.  

 

Lowering the pipe, she concentrated on holding the smoke in her lungs as she looked at the TV.  It was Tony.   _Iron Man_.  In New York.  It was chaos.  Exhaling, she reached for the remote again and turned up the sound.  She saw Natasha and Barton.   _Aliens_?  What the fuck?  What were two of Fury’s biggest spooks doing waging war on BBC News?

 

Leaning back in the cushions, she lit a cigarette and rested her feet against the coffee table, watching.  She watched footage of Dr. Banner’s alter ego laying waste to some enormous creature, helped by someone whom she could only assume was another alien.  A good one.  Hair like a shampoo commercial, but yay lightning?  The caption said his name was Thor.  Well, that fit.

 

She flipped over to Al Jazeera thinking maybe she stumbled into some War of the Worlds hoax.  But no, they had the same coverage.  She only half noticed as Kashif joined her on the couch, taking a drag from the pipe himself.  He held the pipe out to her and she was reaching for it when she saw him.  She stopped, frozen.  Ignoring Kashif, she leaned forward, turning the volume up as loud as it would go.  

 

Those bastards.  

 

Those sons of bitches.  

 

She was going to hunt Fury down and kill him slowly.

 

Some pretender was dressed like Captain America.  Did Fury really think it was as simple as that?  Watching him weave through the chaos, taking out opponents, she could only assume that they must have figured out how to recreate Erskine’s formula.  The fluid movements were so like Steve, it was uncanny.  So they found another guinea pig and dressed him in the uniform and they dared to call him Captain America.

 

Kashif held the pipe out to her again and she shoved it away, sending it skittering across the floor.  “What the hell?” he complained.

 

But then she saw _him_.  It was late in the fight and his helmet had been lost.

 

_Steve._

 

Oh my god, it was Steve.

 

Fury found him.

 

***

 

Peggy barricaded herself in the enormous bathroom, flatly ignoring Kashif pounding on the door.  They weren’t together.  He was just some guy with a nice penthouse and nice drugs, a convenience.   She set her bag on the counter and dug through it until she found her burner phone.  It was dead.  Of course.  She had to dump out the entire contents of her bag to find the charger.  She plugged it in and waited for it to get enough of a charge to work.

 

Sighing, she grabbed one of the myriad pill bottles now littering the counter and emptied it into her palm.  Sticking her head under the tap, she took a drink of water, swallowing them all.  Using the back of her hand, she wiped the water off her chin.  

 

She looked in the mirror.  For the first time in years, she actually looked.  She was a ghost.  She was still naked.  Her dark hair was too long, hanging limply around her bony shoulders, falling nearly to her waist.  She was gaunt, her ribs pressing sharply at her skin.  Her eyes looked sunken in, ringed by purple shadows.  Her body was covered in bruises and scrapes.  She knew she should be dead.  She had Zola and Schmidt to thank for this half-life.

 

“Fuck.  I look worse than Bucky,” she cursed, turning away from the mirror.  She grabbed a bathrobe hanging on a hook and wrapped it around her body.  

 

She picked up the phone again and it showed eight unread voicemails and two dozen missed calls.  All of the calls were from Fury with the exception of one that was from Sharon.  The oldest voicemail was months old.  Had it really been that long since she last checked?

 

She held it to her ear, listening.  It was Fury, calm, vague, call him.  It turned out they were all from Fury, getting progressively more irritated.  The second to last one sounded desperate.  He finally used Steve’s name, said he was having a really hard time, begged her to check in, begged her to tell Steve she was alive.  

 

The final voicemail was deadly calm from two days ago.  “You’re gonna see him on the news,” Fury said.  “Just thought you should know.  Later.”

 

Peggy showered, grabbed her bag and left without a word to Kashif, catching the first available flight to Washington D.C. - New York was a no-fly zone.  As the flight progressed, she started to get sick.  The layover in Istanbul was murder.  In her rush, she’d forgotten to throw her pill bottles back in her bag.  When she thought about it, she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d started to sober up.  It had been years, probably since that night in Paris with Fury and his grand plans for bottling hope.  

 

Curling up in her seat, Peggy pulled her hoodie tighter around her head, watching the news coverage on her tablet through dark sunglasses.  The networks dug up every bit of information they could find on Steve Rogers.  There were old propaganda films, newsreels.  She was in a few of them.  There was a lot of footage from what was being dubbed ‘The Battle of New York’.  Steve’s new uniform was ridiculous.  Who was responsible for that monstrosity?  Completely attaching the helmet to the torso pieces would hinder his range of motion, not to mention being hot and uncomfortable.  No wonder the helmet was gone by the end of the battle.

 

She saw a CNN interview with some adorable little waitress who was obviously starry eyed over Captain America.  Peggy understood.  She did.  Steve looked as good now as he had seventy years ago.  But Peggy had a perspective no one else had.  She could see how miserable he looked underneath the grim determination.  She thought back to Fury’s pleading voice on the message.  How bad had it been for Nick Fury to beg?

 

Steve wasn’t the only one miserable.  Peggy ground her teeth together against the stomach cramps.  She was sweating profusely and she couldn’t stop shaking.  What was she thinking?  She couldn’t see Steve like this.  She couldn’t see _anyone_ like this.  She was a shell of her former self, barely even human.  Like Bucky.

 

After she lost Daniel and Jarvis ... after Angie died ... after that last argument with Sharon, she’d just ... faded away.  

 

Years were spent bouncing around the globe, from one situation to the next, searching for anything that could make her feel alive.  She tried absolutely everything.  And nothing could make her feel the slightest bit of warmth.  

 

Not until she saw him.

 

Tears pricked her eyes and she was too upset to even try and wipe them away.  As much as she needed Steve, as much as Fury said Steve needed her, she couldn’t see him.  It wasn’t fair and she knew it.  

 

Steve thought she was dead.  And, in a way, she was.  She’d been dead for years.  Maybe she needed to let sleeping dogs lie.  Maybe everyone would be better off without her.  

 

Sharon knew the truth.  Sharon could find him.  They could find each other.  Peggy knew she wasn’t needed.

 

When they finally landed at Dulles, Peggy couldn't get off the plane by herself.  She would have been mortified when they took her off the plane in a wheelchair if she hadn’t been so sick.  She sat there, slumped in the wheelchair in front of the bank of televisions, all displaying the Battle of New York coverage.  

 

She’d reluctantly given the officer contact information for her next of kin.  Peggy figured it was a fifty-fifty chance whether or not Sharon would show up.  She did live in D.C.  Peggy wouldn’t have called her if she had any other choice, but she didn’t have a choice.  There was no one else.  Sharon already thought the worst of her.  She would probably be the least shocked to see what had become of Peggy.

 

To Sharon’s credit, she didn’t say anything as she wheeled Peggy to the car.  Once they were in the car, all Sharon said was “I’m taking you to Brookedale.”

 

Peggy knew Brookedale was a very expensive, very private, rehabilitation facility.  She didn’t argue.  She sat in another wheelchair, quiet, as Sharon filled out the intake forms.

 

“Will you be participating in the family therapy?” the nurse asked Sharon.

 

“No,” Sharon replied.  “She won’t have any visitors.”

 

* * *

 

 

**New York - same day as the ‘present day’ section of Chapter 6**

 

Fury chuckled mirthlessly as he looked at her.  “Lookin’ good,” he said.  “Heard you spent a lot of time in rehab.  Bet that was fun.  How are you doing with the whole ‘ _turning it over to a higher power_  'thing?  I figure you for the one who likes to play god.”

 

“Where is he?” she asked, ignoring his comment.

 

“Oh, so that’s how it is?” Fury asked.  “I call you for months on end telling you how much Rogers needs to see a familiar face and it just goes into the void.  No response at all.  But then you go poking around where you don’t belong, deleting old SHIELD records, attracting attention, and suddenly you need my help.”

 

“Look Nick - “

 

“No, _goddammit_ , you look,” he shouted.  “If you had given me any inclination, in the _fifty motherfucking years_ I knew you, that she was _his_ kid, I could have handled that thing in Paris so much better.”

 

“Right,” Peggy said, “how did I manage to forget to schedule that heart to heart where I confessed to my subordinate that I gave birth to Captain America’s secret lovechild after the war?”  She shook her head.  “And don’t lie to me.  You had no idea you would find him alive.  You were looking for pieces of him, trying to recreate the serum.  Let me share a little tidbit, Nick.  The serum wasn’t the secret to Captain America’s success.  Steve was.”

 

Nick shook his head and looked away, but Peggy knew her words had found their mark.  He turned back to her, hands on his hips.  “He’s maybe - _maybe_ \- just starting to find his place in the world again,” he said quietly.

 

“And you think I’m going to break him.”  It wasn’t a question.

 

Nick rubbed his jaw.  “I think that if anyone in this world is capable of breaking him, it’s you.  Yeah.  And I think you’re the kind of person to break someone just to see if you can.”

 

Peggy schooled her features into a blank mask.  Was that really how she came across?  “What’s he said about me?”

 

Nick shook his head.  “Not a goddamn thing.  That’s how I know it’s bad.  He and Romanov found the old SHIELD offices at Camp Lehigh before that whole thing with the Triskellion.  She said she saw your picture and asked who you were.  He just walked away.  Couldn’t even say your name.”

 

“He’s not that fragile,” Peggy said tightly.

 

“You’re wrong.”

 

“No,” she snapped.  “You’re wrong.  And you’re underestimating him.”

 

Nick shook his head, but he walked over to the table and wrote an address on a piece of paper.  “Romanov doesn’t think he believes you’re alive.  He’s in town.  Tonight.  He’s deployed a lot, so if you want to have a heart to heart before Stark beats you to some awful punchline, you better do it soon.”

 

“I’m surprised you didn’t do that already,” she said evenly.

 

He met her gaze with no expression.  Slowly, he held the paper out to her, but as she reached to take it, he pulled it back.  “He’s not looking for you.  He’s trying to find Sharon.”

  
  
END CHAPTER

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of notes:
> 
> 1\. In the Afghanistan section, one of the PJs standing on the tarmac is Sam. Riley was the one who dealt with Peggy directly, Sam only saw her in passing.
> 
> 2\. Peggy's comment about 'the beautiful idiot' from the Bolivian doll factory is Jake Jensen from "The Losers". Pretty much Steve's opposite in every way except for the fact that they're both played by Chris Evans. This story is not a crossover with the Losers at all, but there will be occasional mentions of them. They're a rogue CIA team. Jensen is an idiot. But he's terribly amusing. And he has no problem singing (or undressing) in public. And he loves his niece's soccer team. For more information, see: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fp93mr9Hwz0


	16. Stairwells and Daddy Issues

**Present Day**

 

The rain stopped and after dinner, Steve and Peggy walked aimlessly, hand in hand.  Peggy wondered at the simple luxury of it all.  This was Steve’s city.  He used to tell her so many tales of New York.  But she had lived here far longer than he ever had.  It was home.  But it had never felt quite so much home as it did now.  

 

“So,” she said with forced casualness, “your birthday is two weeks away.”

 

He shrugged.  “Yeah, I guess it is.”

 

She grinned, scooting closer to him.  “What do you want?” she asked conspiratorially.  “You’re going to be ninety-six.  That seems like a big deal.”

 

He smiled, pulling her close, wrapping his arm around her waist.  “You know,” he said, “I really think I’m set this year.  I’m good.  I don’t need anything else.”

 

“If you don’t pick something,” she warned,  “I’m buying you skivvies.”

 

He shook his head, frowning in confusion.  “Why would you buy me that?”

 

She looked up at him.  “Everybody needs skivvies, Steve.  Standard birthday present.  Skivvies and scratcher lotto tickets.  Or pull tabs, but really, scratchers are traditional.”

 

He laughed.  “Underwear and lotto tickets are not the standard birthday present.”

 

She shook her head, like she was humoring a particularly slow child.  “Says the man who was asleep for seventy years.  Times have changed, Steve.  Standard birthday presents have changed.  I’m telling you.  Skivvies and lottos.  Do your non-alien Avenger friends tell you nothing?”

 

He laughed again, holding her close, pressing a hard kiss to her cheek.  “You are so ... strange.  I love you.  And no, we don’t spent a lot of time discussing birthday presents.  Or skivvies.”

 

She made a soft sound and hugged him tighter.  They walked in silence for a long time, marveling at the city, at being together.  

 

Quietly Steve asked, “When is Sharon’s birthday?”

 

Even though she knew it would come up eventually, it was long moments before Peggy could answer.  “August 4, 1945,” she said carefully.  She pulled away from his side, falling into step beside him.  “I have - “  She fell silent, unable to look at him, “the little blanket they swaddled her with after she was born.”  She took a deep breath and regrouped.  “Howard said she looked like a little pink raisin.  I’m afraid he was right.  And poor thing, her head was all pointy.”

 

He reached out and took her hand.  She didn’t object.  “I’m sorry,” he said.  “I wish I’d been there.”

 

Peggy shook her head.  “As far as excuses go,” she said, looking over at him.  “Yours was pretty good.  Being dead and all.”

 

“Hey,” he said, squeezing her hand until she looked at him.  “I mean it.”

 

“I know you mean it, Steve,” she said, giving him a watery smile.  “I never doubted that.  I have doubted just about everything else in my life, but never you.”

 

He came to a slow stop, pulling her to him.  She looked up at him.  Carefully, he said, “What if I said that for my birthday I wanted to spend time with you and Sharon.  Together?”

 

Peggy groaned, looking away.  She knew he was going to do this.  She pulled her hand away, crossing her arms over her chest as she met his gaze.  “You can’t fix this, Steve,” she said firmly.

 

He leaned in close.  “I can try.”

 

She growled in frustration, moving away from him.  She took several steps and turned back to him.  “I love you,” she said firmly.  “Sharon will love you, if she doesn’t already.  Can’t you just be happy with that?”

 

He closed the distance between them, shaking his head.  “No,” he said.  “I can’t.  I want more.”

 

“You have no idea, Steve,” she said in a near whisper, desperately trying to keep her voice even.  “You have no idea all the things I - ...  This isn’t a misunderstanding, Steve.  I fucked up.  I wasn’t a mother to her.”

 

Frowning, he pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her and she allowed it.  He lowered his head, so his lips brushed the shell of her ear.  “You don’t have to do it alone,” he said.

 

She sniffled loudly, pressing her face against him.  “You’re such a demanding asshole.”

 

“Yeah,” he said.  “I get that a lot.”

 

She pinched him in the side.

 

* * *

 

 

Steve and Peggy walked  for a long time after their discussion of Sharon.  The hurt was old and deep.  It would not be quick to heal for anyone.  But in spite of herself, Peggy felt the faintest glimmer of hope.  Steve was so stalwart, so certain, that it was nearly impossible to consider that he might fail.  Sharon already liked him a thousand times more than she liked Peggy.  Maybe he could do it.

 

Eventually, their conversation turned to other topics.  Peggy reminisced about missions with the fellas, after the war, stories of friendship and camaraderie and kicking commie ass.  She told Steve about Mr. Jarvis, Howard’s butler and one of her closest confidants.  Steve shared stories of all the bets he lost to Fury.  He told Peggy how he met Sam on his morning run and then went to see him at the VA so Sam could impress the girl at the front desk.

 

“Was she impressed?” Peggy asked, eyebrow raised.

 

“Of course she was impressed,” Steve replied smugly.  “I’m a national treasure.  And I was wearing my good chinos.”

 

Peggy laughed until she cried.  Those damn chinos.  She hated them so much.  She was going to get him out of them and then burn them.

 

It started to rain again and Steve hailed a cab while Peggy waited under an awning.  She watched him in the rain, loving his profile, the broadness of his shoulders, but mostly the fact that he was hers.  They were on their way back to her place and there was a specific anticipation that seemed to buzz in the air.

 

Peggy scooted over so Steve could slide into the back of the cab.  His phone was ringing as she gave the address to the driver.  She frowned at him and he rolled his eyes, mouthing ‘Stark’, as he answered the phone.

 

“Yeah, yeah, that’s great,” Steve said, “look, Tony, I’m - “  He frowned, listening.

 

Peggy arched an eyebrow at Steve and scooted closer as the cab merged into traffic.  It didn’t skip her notice that Tony called Steve at eleven on a Sunday night, assuming he wouldn’t have anything to do.  She suspected all of the Avengers had a very specific idea of who Steve was.  She just didn’t think it was the same Steve she knew.   Raking her nails up his thigh, Peggy leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his throat.  Steve immediately grabbed her wandering hand and tried to pull back out of reach.  

 

“Tony, I gotta go, I gotta - “  He frowned again, listening.  “Tony, that whole thing in Romania was a bust don’t - “

 

Peggy smirked, moving to straddle him in the back of the cab.  Steve’s eyes went wide and he tried to move her back to her seat.  She held on, reaching down to stroke his inner thigh.

 

“ _Tony!_ ” Steve barked.  “I’ve got a date.  Shut up.”  He dropped the phone.

 

Peggy kissed him, pulling his hands to her chest as their tongues tangled.  Steve kissed her back, fondling her breasts.  But he kept trying to look around her to see if the driver was watching them.  Peggy grabbed his head, forcing his attention back to her.  Reluctantly, he released her breasts, grabbing one of her wrists as his other hand found her hip.  She knew he was getting ready to set her back in her own seat.  She moved her hand, stroking him through his trousers.  He was hard.  His breath caught as she rubbed him.  He pressed his forehead against her shoulder and stopped trying to move her away.

 

She leaned forward, nipping his earlobe before whispering to him.  She told him how much she’d missed him, how much she wanted him, how wet she was just thinking about him.  

 

He sucked in a quick, shivering breath and groaned.  “Peggy, we’re in a cab.”

 

“I know where we are, Steve,” she said.  She urged his head back and pressed hard, open mouthed kisses to his neck.  His head fell back against the headrest, giving her better access.  God, she loved his neck.  Not as much as she loved his shoulders - or other parts of him - but he had a good neck.

 

The cab pulled to a none too gentle stop in front of her building, causing Peggy to rock backward.  She sat there for a moment, looking down at Steve as she pulled a card out of her back pocket and shamelessly handed it to the driver.  Steve looked mortified.  He tried in vain to smooth down his hair and adjust his collar.

 

Peggy shifted, biting down on her bottom lip and pressing her groin against his.  He grunted, his fingertips biting into her thighs.  He was still so hard.  The cabbie handed her card back and Peggy got out and sauntered shamelessly past the doorman into the building.  She leaned back against the wall in the entryway, waiting as Steve awkwardly got out of the cab.

 

Steve studiously avoided meeting the doorman’s eyes.  He started to walk past her to press the elevator button, but she reached out and stopped him.  “I think we should take the stairs,” she said.

 

“It’s on the twenty-eighth floor,” he said, frowning.

 

She grabbed a fistful of his shirt and walked backwards into the stairwell, grinning evilly as she pulled him along.  Steve was shaking his head at her, but she ignored him, shoving him backward into the rough concrete wall next to some recycling bins and kissing him deeply.  “Do you have a - “

 

“ _Yes_ ,” he said, pulling her close, grabbing her ass as she nipped at his lips.  He broke off the kiss.  “People could see,” he whispered.

 

“They could,” she admitted, undoing the fly of her jeans and shimmying out of them.  “You better be quick.”

 

“Dammit,” he cursed, but he grabbed her and pinned her to the wall.  Their tongues tangled, nipping and biting as they ground against one another.  Despite her warnings about being quick, they spent long minutes straining against one another, exploring.  Steve lifted up her shirt and pulled down one of the cups on her bra, drawing her nipple between his teeth.  He bit down gently and Peggy yelped, wrapping her legs tightly around his waist, straining against him.

 

“Fuck me,” she growled at him.  He was more than happy to take orders, digging in his wallet for the condom.  As he fought with the foil wrapper, Peggy unwrapped her legs from his waist and loosened his belt, unzipping his fly.  She stroked him roughly with her hand and he went still, eyes shut, mouth open in a pant.

 

“Hurry, Steve,” she whispered.

 

He growled, hitching her leg up around his waist.  He didn’t even bother with her panties, he just shoved the material aside and then his fingers were there, parting, rubbing.  She groaned, her head smacking back against the concrete as her fingernails dug into his biceps.  She was so close already.  He stopped rubbing her and she would have complained, but he was rolling the condom down his cock.  She bit down on her bottom lip, waiting.  And then he grabbed her, hitching her leg at his waist and slowly slid inside.  Peggy’s breath hissed through her teeth at the exquisite sensation.  One of his arms held her leg at his waist, the other was braced against the wall by her head as he rocked into her over and over.

 

“ _Fuckfuckfuck_ ,” she cursed, coming, her back arching, her fingernails digging into his skin deep enough to draw blood.

 

He kissed her and drove into her even harder, faster before his muscles corded and his breath hissed between his teeth.  He slumped against her, lowering her leg back to the floor as he withdrew.  They weren’t going to win any endurance contests like this, but jesus christ, it was like they were both sixteen.

 

Peggy was panting harshly and her legs weren’t entirely steady.  She leaned back against the wall, watching as Steve made a face, disposing of the condom in the trash chute.  He zipped his fly and scooped her jeans off the ground and handed them to her.  She smiled at him as she wiggled back into the tight denim and searched for her shoes.  She finally found them and then started back out to the lobby.

 

“Oh, _no_ ,” Steve said, grabbing her arm.  “You wanted to take the stairs.”

 

“No,” she said seriously, “I didn’t.  I wanted to fuck you in the stairwell.”

 

“I am not going back out there with the doorman,” Steve hissed.  “Do you have any idea how loud you are?”

 

They finally compromised, taking the stairs to the second floor and then the elevator up to her apartment.  Peggy wrapped herself around Steve in the elevator and by the time they made it to her front door, they were grinding against one another again.

 

They made it inside the apartment, barely.  Their clothes didn’t make it out of the foyer.  Peggy ended up face down on her beautiful marble island, Steve driving into her from behind.  

 

He came first that time, but quickly disposed of the condom and rolled her over onto her back.  She stared blindly up at her ceiling, back arching as she grabbed a handful of his hair, begging him to finish her.  He did, but he took his time, teasing and tormenting before making her come so hard she saw stars.

 

* * *

 

 

Peggy was propped up on her elbow, tracing an idle pattern with her free hand on Steve’s chest.  They’d finally made it to the bed after a slight detour in the hallway and in the shower.  They were going to need to buy condoms in bulk.  “You do realize you told Tony you were on a date, right?” she asked.

 

He was drowsing.  “Huh?  Did not.”  He shifted, pressing the side of his face deeper into the pillow as his arms tightened around her.

 

“Steve,” she said.  “You told him.”

 

“Damn,” he sighed.  “I was distracted at the time.  I didn’t know what I was saying.”  He scrubbed a hand over his face.  “He was going to find out eventually.  It’ll give him just that much more ammunition.”

 

Steve’s hand traced down her side, lingering on the two little rows of scars.  The last time he’d had the time to notice them, they’d been lying on the floor of her little London flat.  The scars had been new, red and angry.  Now they were old, faded.

 

She wondered what he saw when he looked at them.  She’d made up a dozen different lies for countless different lovers about how she acquired them.  But Steve knew. He’d seen the lab.  He’d carried her to safety.  The fact that he hadn’t talked about it, even with her, told her how very much it upset him.

 

Shifting so that she was straddling him, she looked down at him.  “You don’t like Tony.”

 

He looked up at her and frowned, his hand moving from the scars on her ribs to her hips.  “Honestly, I don’t not like him.  He’s good in a fight.  He’s just very ... unpredictable.”

 

“He gives you hell,” Peggy said.

 

Steve nodded.  “He does give me a lot of hell, yes,” he said.  “I don’t know what I did to piss him off, but I did something.”

 

Peggy laughed.

 

“What?” Steve asked.

 

Her face scrunched up as she looked at him.  “You really don’t know why he’s a jerk to you?”

 

Steve shrugged.  “I’ve gone over every interaction a thousand times,” he said.  “I have no idea what I did to him.”

 

Peggy frowned, her features softening.  “Howard loved you,” she said quietly.

 

Steve blinked up at her.  “Sure,” he said.  “Howard was a pal.  But Tony’s his kid.”

 

Peggy sighed deeply, crawling off Steve and curling up at his side.  “Tony knows that Howard loved you.  Howard was very vocal about it.  What Tony doesn’t know is that Howard loved him more than anything.”  She reached over and brushed a lock of Steve’s hair back off his forehead.  “In the most juvenile terms, Tony’s pissed that daddy liked you more.”

 

Steve frowned.  “That’s ridiculous.”

 

“And yet,” Peggy said wryly, “it’s true.  I’ve learned through painful personal experience that just because you love your kid doesn’t mean they know you love them.  It takes more than that.  They expect more.  They deserve more.”

 

They were quiet and Peggy could almost feel a weight in the air.

 

Steve laced his fingers through hers and asked gently, “How old was Sharon when you gave her up?”

 

“Three days old,” Peggy said flatly.  She blinked back tears.  “I never even held her.  Howard was there, he tried  ...  but I couldn’t.  I knew if I did, I’d never be able to - “  She took a deep, shaky breath.  “I didn’t think there was any way I could keep her safe.”

 

“Peggy, you did everything you could -  “

 

She shook her head.  “By the time I had enough stability to even consider it, the world was a different place.  We traded the Nazis for the cold war.  The Soviets had Bucky.  They knew how valuable the serum research could be when weaponized.  The only thing I could do to protect her was to stay away from her, make sure that no one suspected she was anything other than another war orphan.”

 

“You did what you felt was necessary,” Steve said gently.

 

“That’s what I’ve told myself,” she said.  “Sometimes I wonder if I was just too afraid of loving someone.  Even my daughter.”  She took a deep breath.  “They tried to warn me.  Those few who knew.  Howard, Phillips, Daniel.  They all tried to tell me that I wasn’t keeping her safe, that I was just driving her away and I didn’t listen.  I couldn’t listen.”

 

“Are you listening now?” Steve asked.

 

She looked at him frowning.  She laughed mirthlessly.  “Yeah,” she said.  “I am.  For what it’s worth.  But she hasn’t spoken to me in years.”  She sighed.  “I talk to her.  One sided conversations with her voicemail.”

 

He nodded.  “She knew you were out of town yesterday.”

 

“Yeah,” Peggy said.  “I told her I was going to L.A.”  She frowned.  “It’s part of my work on accountability.  Mostly I think I just give her the opportunity to avoid me.  But she hasn’t changed her number, so I guess I’ll keep doing it.”

 

He smiled at her, pulling her close.  “We’re not dead, Peggy,” he said.  “We can do this together.”

  


END CHAPTER

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They probably would have taken Uber, right? We're just going to go with it.


	17. Home Is Where You Are

“So ... you had a date last night,” Tony said.

 

Steve made a noncommittal sound into the phone.  He was sitting at the island in Peggy’s kitchen, eating breakfast and watching her do yoga in front of the floor to ceiling windows in her living room.  She was wearing only underwear and a sports bra.  

 

She was _incredibly_ limber.

 

“How is Sharon doing?” Tony pressed.

 

“She’s good, but I’m not dating her,” Steve said around a bite of oatmeal.

 

“Fine, courting, whatever the hell you want to call it,” Tony said, sighing dramatically.

 

“I’m not dating Sharon,” Steve said again.  Steve didn’t know what that move was called, but he liked it.  A lot.  “Is there a point to this call, or are you just bored?”

 

“Mostly bored,” Tony admitted.  “Pepper had to go to London for a conference and Rhodey’s doing some event at a children’s hospital.  I don’t have anybody to play with.  But back to Sharon, a little bird told me that she had breakfast with you yesterday morning.  I know you’re out of practice, but it’s not good to seem too eager.  It can come off as desperate.  I’ve heard.”

 

Steve watched Peggy do a backbend.   _Jesus_.  He said, “I did have breakfast with Sharon yesterday.  Sam was there too.  I’m not dating him either.”

 

There was a sound of typing and then Tony asked, “So just out of curiosity, who does live on the upper west side?”

 

Steve sighed.  He knew the phones had GPS and he was not at all shocked that Tony was using the information they provided for his own amusement.  “My date.”

 

“Oh,” Tony said, “so you ... slept over.”

 

“Yes,” Steve admitted.  What was the point in lying?

 

“Wow, Rogers,” Tony said.  “That is legitimately shocking you would admit to that.  So does this mean you’re going to stop being an insufferable killjoy now that you finally know the touch of a woman?”

 

“Probably not,” Steve said, taking another bite.

 

“Yeah, I figured it was too much to hope for,” Tony said.  “So give my, um, love and, you know, whatever other pointy things seem appropriate, to Sharon.  How does she afford a place on Riverside working for the CIA?”

 

* * *

 

Peggy had just stepped out of the shower and was towel drying her hair when Steve grabbed her from behind and pressed his hips against her, kissing the back of her neck.  He was hard.

 

She looked up and met his gaze in the mirror.  “Seriously?”

 

He raised an eyebrow at her.

 

“We’ve had sex twice this morning,” she said, honestly a little bit afraid that he might not have an upper limit.

 

“It’s just,” he said in an almost whine, “do you have any idea what you look like doing yoga?  I mean, if you don’t, I could, you know, film it on my phone.  If you wanted.”

 

She glared at him in the mirror.

 

“For science?” he tried with an innocent smile.

 

“Steve Rogers, you are not filming my yoga routine,” she said darkly.

 

He pulled her close, pressing more kisses to her neck, his fingers gently circling her breasts.  She watched their reflections in the mirror and shifted anxiously.  In their admittedly low number of sexual encounters, Steve wasn’t the one who initiated things.  He was always an enthusiastic participant, but he rarely made his needs or wants known.  To have him be so forward about what he wanted was exciting.  She was already wet.  Dammit.  It was difficult to play hard to get when she just wanted to rub against him like a bitch in heat.  God, one look from him and her insides went liquid.

 

His right hand drifted down her abdomen and his fingers sifted through the coarse hair covering her sex, teasing her gently.  “Come on,” he said, his breath hot against her ear, “I ship out tomorrow.”

 

“You ship out twice a week,” she growled.  “Fuck you.”

 

He bit gently on the shell of her ear.  “That is the idea, yes.”

 

She looked in the mirror and met his gaze, holding it.  “Tell me,” she challenged.

 

A blush stained the top of his cheeks and he broke eye contact, but he pressed closer to her ear and whispered, “I want to fuck you.”

 

She shivered as excitement tingled down her spine and her nipples tightened to hard little points. “If you had any idea how many times I’ve gotten myself off imagining you saying that ...”

 

He spun her around and before she knew it, she was sitting on the edge of the bathroom counter.  He was inside her before his pants even hit the floor.  Fuck.  He felt so good.  She knew he wasn’t using a condom and she knew she was going to hell because that made it that much more exciting.

 

“Steve,” she hissed between her teeth, clawing at his back.

 

“I know, I know,” he panted, moving slowly, shallow, then deep, over and over.  “I’ll pull out.”

 

She knew.  The rational part of her brain was screaming for her to stop, but she couldn’t.  She wanted him too much.  It felt too good to have him there, driving into her with nothing between them.  She hadn’t had him like this since the night Bucky died.  It had been too long.  She leaned back against the mirror and his fingers found her clit, stroking in counterpoint to his thrusts.

 

“Do you want me to get a - “ he managed to grunt out.

 

“If you stop, it’s the last thing you’ll ever do,” she swore, using her heels to pull him harder against her.

 

The bathroom had a bank of south facing windows and it was incredibly bright.  There was nowhere to hide, face to face, watching one another as they moved together.

 

She felt the wave start and clutched at him, fingers on his biceps, legs wrapped around his.  “Don’t come.  Don’t come,” she ordered breathily.

 

He nodded, eyes screwed tightly shut as he continued to move inside her.  She shouted, the sound echoing off the bathroom walls.  She was still trembling when he made a strangled noise and withdrew before coming against her thigh.

 

They stayed there, leaning against one another, panting harshly.  She dragged a hand through her hair, brushing it back out of her eyes.  “I know you’re Catholic,” she said darkly, “but we are _not_ going to pull and pray.”  

 

She pushed him away and jumped off the counter.  She scooped up her towel and used it to wipe her leg clean before tossing it in the hamper.  She looked at him, watching him fastening his pants, and sighed.  “We’re going to have to figure out something more permanent.”

 

He looked thoroughly pleased with himself.

 

“Or you’re not going to be allowed to sleep over,” she said, poking him in the chest.

 

He frowned.  “I don’t think doing it less often is going to have the desired effect,” he said reasonably.

 

“I’m celibate!” she snapped, glaring at him.

 

He looked around the bathroom like he was expecting someone to jump out and yell _KIDDING_.  “Unless the usage of that word has changed dramatically in the last seventy years, you’re really not,” he said carefully.

 

“I am,” she bit out, turning and grabbing her bathrobe, wrapping it around her body.  “Or I was.”  She looked around the bathroom and threw up her hands.  “This ... _this_ ... is not allowed.”  She huffed out into the bedroom.

 

“Peggy, I’m sorry - ,” Steve started quietly.

 

She turned around to face him.  “I’m not - “  She stopped and took a deep breath.  “I’m not mad at you, Steve.  I’m not blaming you.  I wanted it.  So much.  It’s incredibly hot when you take the lead.”

 

She sat heavily on the end of the bed and held her head in her hand for several long moments.  Finally, she looked up at him.  “It’s very hard for me to control myself where you’re concerned,” she said quietly.  She frowned.  “How much do you want to know?”

 

He nodded slowly.  “All of it,” he said cautiously, but firmly.  He took a seat on the bed next to her, taking her hand.

 

“I was in a bad way,” she said quietly.  “A lot of,” she held up her fingers, making air quotes, “‘s _elf-destructive behavior_ ’.”

 

He waited, quiet and patient.

 

“It doesn’t even matter why, “ she said, frowning.  “It was an excuse.  And I used it for years.  There was a lot of alcohol, a lot of drugs, a lot of ... _people_.  Sharon’s the one who finally checked me into rehab.  I didn’t even argue.  I knew I was at the end of my rope.”

 

She turned and looked at him.  “So now I practice self care.  Even when I don’t want to,” she added bitterly.  “Usually, anyway.  I was fabulous with restraint until I saw you again.”  She gave him a wry smile.  “You should know who you’re dealing with before you commit to anything.  I have more skeletons in my closet than most.”

 

He met her gaze evenly.  “I already know who I’m dealing with.”

 

She shook her head frowning.  “Dammit, Steve - “

 

“No,” he said firmly.  “Don’t.  You want me to blame you, to tell you that you were wrong, but I won’t.  I can’t.  It’s been a century, Peggy.  A _century_.  I was asleep.  If I’d been the one who lost you, who lost Bucky, who’s to say what would have happened.  A century is a long damn time to spend burying people you love.  Human hearts weren’t built for that.”

 

She blinked at him, aware of the tears on her cheeks.  

 

He shifted, pulling her to him, but she was stiff in his embrace.  “I know you’re scared of losing control,” he said quietly.  “It’s okay.  I’m scared too.  I’m the guy who couldn’t even ask the girl to dance.  But look how much it paid off.  Today I got to wake up with the girl of my dreams.”

 

She wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face against him.

 

* * *

 

Steve turned off the kitchen faucet, watching as Peggy put away the last of the dinner dishes.  He stood there for a long moment, just watching her move around the kitchen. It was so completely innocuous, something she did every single day and it was one of the most magical things he’d ever seen, Peggy soft and comfortable and _his_.

 

He turned away before she could catch him staring.  He walked across the twilight dark living room and switched on a lamp next to a wall of bookshelves.  He studied the titles.  Some of the books were old, well worn and dogeared, others much more recent.  He pulled one of the books off the shelf.

 

Peggy walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around him, peering around him at the title.    
  
  


“Vonnegut?”

 

“It’s on my list,” Steve said.  “Banner suggested it.”  He looked at her.  “Can I borrow it?”

 

“Absolutely not,” she said dryly.  “I don’t think we’re ready for that level of intimacy just yet.”

 

He laughed and turned around, pulling her close.  She gave him a quick kiss and pushed him toward the couch.  He sat down with the book.  Picking up a book of her own, she joined him, propping her head against one of the sofa arms and burrowing her feet against him where he sat at the other end.

 

Steve sat there, holding the book, but not actually reading it.  The sense of unreality was intense.  After all this time, he was here, with Peggy, just spending an evening together.  Things were far from perfect, but he felt so much more a part of the world than he had only a few short days ago.  Their day had been boring, domestic.  They went out and picked up groceries.  She bought a tube of the toothpaste he used.  And more condoms.  And something called Plan B.

 

They made dinner together and Steve kept annoying Peggy by asking her what all the ingredients were.  He finally gave up and just chopped up the things she told him to chop up and stirred the things she told him to stir while she followed a recipe in some language he couldn’t identify, much less read.  The food was good, though.

 

Sighing, he looked over at her book.  It was written in an asian language, but beyond that, he had no idea.  Peggy was smart and funny and ... _complex_ was probably the word that Pepper would use.  It fit.  He’d never known anyone like her.  He would never find anyone else like her.  He’d learned that the hard way.

 

Peggy looked up at him and prodded him with her foot.  “What?”

 

He shook his head, frowning.  “Just enjoying the view.”

 

She rolled her eyes at him, but smiled too.  Steve eventually started reading the book.  It was interesting.  Reminded Steve a little of Twain, though the style was quite different.  His concentration was broken when Peggy’s phone rang.

 

Frowning, she hopped up from the couch and walked to the island where she’d left it.  She frowned at the display, but answered.  “He’s here,” she said quietly.  Then a pause.  “I think he turned it off because Tony wouldn’t quit calling.  Hang on.”  She walked over to Steve and handed him the phone.  “It’s Sharon.”

 

“Hello,” he said cautiously.

 

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Sharon said, obviously uncomfortable.

 

“No,” he said blandly, “we were just reading.”

 

Sharon was silent for a moment.  “Reading?”

 

“Yeah,” Steve said, turning his book over and looking at the cover.  “I’m reading Vonnegut.  I don’t know what she’s reading.  It’s in sanskrit.”

 

“Tibetan,” Peggy corrected, “about bardos.”  She looked back to the book, pretending to be engrossed when Steve knew her entire attention was fixated on his conversation with Sharon.

 

“Tibetan,” Steve said to Sharon.  “About borders.”

 

“ _Bardos_.”

 

“Bardos,” Steve said, frowning.  “Do you want to talk to her?” Steve pointedly asked Peggy.

 

“That’s okay,” Peggy said quietly.

 

“Okay,” Steve said to Sharon.  “You get that?  Tibetan _bardos_.”

 

Sharon was quiet again.  “Yeah, I know what the bardos are.”  She paused.  “You two are sitting around _reading_?”

 

“I know it’s difficult to believe,” Steve said, “but they did actually teach children to read and write in the twenties.  Mind you, it was before pencils and electricity were invented, so it was very difficult.  Your mother and I are smarter than most people.”

 

Peggy kicked him in the thigh.

 

“Well, she is anyway,” Steve amended.

 

“I just ... can’t imagine ... _nevermind_ ,” Sharon said.  “Sam called.  He’s been trying to get in touch with you.  He wanted you to know that you’re an asshole.”

 

Steve blinked.  “Sam called you, to tell you to call Peggy, to tell me that?”

 

“This would be so much easier if you just left your phone on,” Sharon said with a beleaguered sigh.  “He also wanted you to know that the schedule shifted and you’re not leaving until 1800 tomorrow.  Something about Tony and Pepper needing the good jet to go to Chicago.”

 

“Ah,” Steve said, frowning.  “I guess I’ll have time to kill tomorrow.”  He took a breath.  “Hey, if you have any time, you could swing by Stark Tower, check the place out.”  Especially if Tony was going to be out of town.

 

“I, uh, yeah, maybe,” she said.  “I’ll have to see what my schedule is like.”

 

“Whatever works for you,” Steve said.  They said some rather awkward goodbyes and Steve handed the phone back to Peggy.  

 

He sat there, frowning.  “Why does Sam have Sharon’s number?”

 

“Don’t start,” Peggy said, not looking up from her book.  “You’re at least fifty years too late to play overprotective father.”  She finally glanced up at him. “I thought you liked Sam.”

 

“I do like Sam,” Steve said firmly.  He sighed. “I just don’t want him calling my daughter.”

 

“Trust me,” Peggy said, “after some of the guys she’s dated, she’s more than equipped to deal with Sam.”

 

Steve didn’t find any comfort in that statement.

 

* * *

 

 

Peggy stood in the foyer, nursing a cup of coffee as she looked at Steve.  He still had to go all the way back to Brooklyn to grab a few things before he could head to Stark Tower.

 

“I’ll clean out some drawers,” she said, trying to sound casual, “so you can keep stuff over here.  It’s pointless for you to have to go all the way back to Brooklyn.”

 

He looked at her, but didn’t say anything.

 

“Unless, of course,” she floundered, “I didn’t mean that you shouldn’t stay in Brooklyn.  I know that’s home.”

 

He smiled and carefully took her coffee cup, setting it on a nearby table.  He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her deeply.  “Brooklyn is where I was born,” he said.  “Home is where you are.”

  
END CHAPTER


	18. Take Your Daughter To Work Day / Dragonlady to the Rescue

“Uh, Steve,” Hill said, sticking her head in the room, “you have a ... visitor.”

 

Steve looked up from where he was reviewing video with Banner.  Banner gave him a quizzical look, but didn’t say anything as Steve left.  He followed Hill down the hall to her office where Sharon was sitting, with a visitor badge pinned to her shirt.  As they approached, Sharon rose to her feet.  “I hope this isn’t a problem,” she said awkwardly.

 

“Not at all,” Steve said dismissively, pointedly ignoring the look from Hill.  He started back down the hall the motioned for Sharon to follow.  They entered the small, messy room just off Banner’s R&D lab.

 

Sharon chuckled.  “So, you have an office?”

 

“An office?” Steve repeated, looking around and frowning.  He quickly moved piles of random crap, mostly prototype armor and helmets, off the spare chair.  “Ah, _no_ ,” he said, shaking his head.  “Not really.  It’s just where I  - “  He quickly tossed an old pair of gym socks under the worktable.  “...  keep things,” he finished lamely.

 

Sharon nodded, unconvinced.  “I guess I never considered that being an Avenger might come with paperwork.”

 

He frowned at her and slumped down into his chair, watching as Sharon looked around.  The room was tiny and Steve was pretty sure it was intended to be storage space, which he supposed Tony found both fitting and amusing.  Not that Steve needed a lot of room.  Just a space to throw junk between missions.  There was a small window in the door and Steve saw Hill peek inside.  He reached over and closed the blinds.

 

Sharon didn’t take a seat.  Instead, she examined the little room, stopping to study a large pile of books stacked on a shelf, noting the titles.  She looked at him quizzically.  “These are pretty old.”

 

He nodded.  “They were in my footlocker,” he said.  “These days I mostly read on my phone.”  He looked at the phone and added, “though I prefer actual books.”

 

Her brow furrowed, she turned back to him.  “They still had your footlocker after all that time?”

 

“Ah ... no,” he admitted.  “Peggy had it.”

 

Sharon just stared at him for a long moment.  “ _Really_?”

 

Steve nodded.

 

Shrugging, Sharon looked away.  She stared at the book spines again for a moment before turning back to him.  “Margaret still had your footlocker from the war?”

 

He leaned back in the chair, threading his fingers together, frowning.  Apparently Sharon didn’t take Peggy for the sentimental type.  “She still has your baby blanket from when you were born,” he said carefully.  He had no idea how that was going to land and he knew it might blow up on him.

 

Sharon’s features were perfectly blank.  Steve had no idea what she was thinking.  Finally she shook her head and looked away.  She made a production of dusting dirt off the spare chair before carefully sitting down.  “She left me a voicemail this morning,” she said carefully.  “Said you wanted us to get together for your birthday.”

 

“Yeah,” he said, nodding.  He took a deep breath.  “I know I’m asking a lot.”

 

“ _You are_ ,” Sharon agreed firmly.  “You’re asking a lot.  A whole lot.”  She took a deep breath.  “What did she say about it?”

 

“That I can’t fix everything,” he said quietly.  “And that underwear and lotto tickets are the standard birthday present nowadays.”

 

Sharon just blinked at him and then her face creased with a reluctant smile.  She nodded.  “They are.  However, I’m planning to get you an ugly tie.  And maybe some aftershave.  I figure you’re due.”

 

He smiled.  “She also told me that I should tell you I’m not as helpless as I look.”

 

Sharon gave him a wary look.  “I don’t know.  You seem pretty helpless.”  He honestly couldn’t tell if she was kidding or not.  She glanced around the room, taking note of the gear and bugout bag littered across his work table.  It was an awful jumble of supersuit, boots, shield, three different holsters, and two experimental sets of gloves that he was testing.  “You’re headed out tonight with Sam?”

 

“Yeah,” he said.  “Slovakia.”  He paused.  “Or Slovenia.  I’m not sure.  Which one borders Ukraine?”

 

“Slovakia,” Sharon said absently.  Her attention was fixated on his work table.  Cautiously, she reached out and touched the shield.  She seemed to catch herself and immediately pulled back.

 

“Feel free,” he said, motioning toward the shield.

 

She glanced over at him and then back to the shield.  “Is it really the rarest metal on earth?”

 

He sighed.  “That’s what Stark says.  Both of them, actually.  It’s stronger than steel and lighter.  Vibration neutral.”

 

Frowning, she traced her fingers over one of the scars on the face of the shield.  “Looks like they missed a spot or two,” she said.

 

“Yeah, it ... “  He fell silent.

 

Turning, Sharon looked at him.

 

Smiling tightly, Steve said, “They’re under strict orders not to fix those whenever they touch it up.”

 

Sharon’s brow furrowed.  “Why not?  How did you get them?”

 

“Peggy,” he said, pursing his lips together.  “She shot me.  Misunderstanding.”

 

Frowning, Sharon sat back in her chair.  “She shot you and you want to memorialize it?”

 

“That sounds awful, doesn’t it?” he asked, wincing.  “It seemed less creepy when I thought she was dead.”  He paused.  “Which also sounds awful.”  He sighed.  “For the record, she didn’t shoot me, she shot _at_ me.  And hit the shield.  Four times.”  

 

He knew he wasn’t helping himself.  “She’s a phenomenal shot,” he continued.  “She didn’t mean to actually hit me.  Much.”

 

Sharon looked like her head hurt.  “I really suspect I’m going to regret asking this, but why did Margaret shoot you?”

 

He pursed his lips together, frowning.  “She, uh, caught - “  He stopped, shifting nervously in his chair.  “You see there was this wo - “  He leaned forward in his chair toward Sharon.  “You need to understand, Peggy and I were _strictly_ friends at that point.”

 

Sharon bit back a smile and pressed her fist to her mouth.  “Are you telling me that she caught you with another woman and shot you?”

 

He sat back, frowning.  “I wasn’t _with_ another woman.  Private Lorraine ... kissed me.  And, uh, Peggy saw.”  He raked a hand through his hair.  “And then she shot me.  Four times.  And told me I didn’t know anything about women.”

 

Sharon looked at the ceiling, as if beseeching the heavens.  “I feel like this explains why so many of my relationships were disasters.”

 

“What?” Steve asked.

 

“Nothing.”  She studied him closely.  “So, again, why do you want to memorialize the fact that she shot you?”

 

He shrugged.  “Because that was the first time.”

 

Frowning, Sharon said, “The first time with Private Lorraine?”

 

Steve shook his head, blushing.  “No.  Nothing like that.”  He sighed.  “It was the first time I realized that she had started to  ... _like_ me.  Like that.”

 

Sharon just frowned at him and he knew she didn’t understand.  

 

“I fell in love with Peggy the first time I saw her,” he said quietly.  “She was ... a force of nature, so smart and classy and tough and funny.”  

 

Sharon watched him quizzically for a long moment.  “You didn’t say beautiful.”

 

Steve frowned.  “Of course she’s beautiful.”

 

“Oh, trust me, I know,” Sharon said, in a way that made Steve think there must be a lot of backstory there.  “It’s the first thing anyone says when talking about Peggy Carter.  She’s beautiful.  Usually followed quickly by _bitch_.”  She sighed.  “But you didn’t say that.”

 

He shrugged.  “It’s not the most interesting thing about her,” he said.  “She was my friend before Dr. Erskine’s formula turned me into,” he motioned to himself, “ _this_.  She was my friend when everyone else thought I was a joke.”

 

“Surely they didn’t think you were a joke for long,” Sharon said.

 

“Oh, you’d be surprised,” he said dryly.  “Peggy helped me, supported me.  She was the reason I found Bucky after his unit was captured by Hydra.  She defied orders, bribed Howard Stark into flying me behind enemy lines.  She could have been courtmartialed, but she took the chance on me.  She believed.  Long before anyone else.”

 

Sharon looked at the floor for a long time before finally glancing up at him.  “I didn’t know any of that.”

 

He frowned.  “I don’t think she talks about the old days much.”

 

Sharon shook her head and looked down again.  She took a deep breath.  “I knew that she was part of the SSR.  I didn’t realize that you knew her before you were Captain America.”

 

Steve nodded, smiling.  “Yeah,” he said.  “We were a pair.  The ninety pound asthmatic who’d been labeled 4F on four different tries, and the beautiful dame.  Neither of us was supposed to be there.  Neither of us was supposed to amount to anything.  We were curiosities.  Colonel Phillips once compared me to a gerbil.  He respected Peggy a lot more, but he still didn’t make anything easy for her.”

 

Sharon just watched him.  “So you two fell for each other?”

 

He blushed.  “It was a different time,” he said quietly.  “We were in the middle of a war.  We were friends.  We had an understanding that once the war was over, things could be different.”

 

Smiling wryly, Sharon said, “Well, given that I’m here, I’m guessing that changed at some point.”

 

Steve knew he was probably as red as his shield.  “Little things changed,” he said.  “Over months.  When Schmidt took her -“

 

He stopped, swallowing thickly.  He couldn’t begin to articulate the terror he’d felt, the rage.  When Schmidt took her, the knowledge that she was alone, at the mercy of those psychotics, that she’d die before she gave an inch ...  Steve had gone mad.

 

“We found her,” he finally said, “she was alive, but she was so sick.  We, the whole team, all the fellas and me, we were all afraid she was going to die.  She almost did, more than once.”  He sighed.  “That changed things for good, the knowledge that there might not be a tomorrow.  That I might lose her.”

 

Sharon shook her head, lips pursed into a tight frown.  “I spent so many years researching her history, trying to figure out who I was,” she said quietly.  “I just can’t reconcile this person you’re talking about with the woman I know.”

 

“I know,” Steve said quietly, frowning at his daughter, “but she is.”

 

Sharon shook her head again, rising to her feet to pace the room in tight circles.  “I found records,” she said to Steve.  “I don’t want to hurt you, but there are reports right after you went missing.  There was one from her landlady about two members of the 107th having to be forcibly removed from her bedroom.”

 

She had more, but Steve cut her off.  “Dugan and Morita,” he said gently, making it clear he already knew.

 

Sharon stopped and looked at him, nodding.

 

“The bomber crashed about a week before that incident with Dugan and Morita,” he said.  “They took my footlocker to her for safekeeping.  They practically had to break down the door.  She was ... not good.  That’s in Dugan’s official report to Colonel Phillips.  If you ever get bored enough to spend four days digging through SSR records that nobody ever bothered to digitize, there’s quite a treasure trove of information.”  

 

He took a deep breath, frowning.  ”I talked to her, as I was trying to force the bomber down.  Neither of us had any idea that she was pregnant with you at the time.  We made a date.  She told me not to miss it.  That’s the last thing I remember until they woke me up seventy years later.”  

 

He laughed mirthlessly and looked up at Sharon.  “I missed our date,” he said quietly.  “I’m sorry.  I don’t plan on missing any more.”

 

* * *

 

 

“You’re the one who went in there to spy on Natasha,” Steve said.  “I don’t see how this is my fault.”

 

“Oh, _oh_!” Sam barked.  “That’s how it’s going to be?  I wasn’t even creepin’, I just wanted to see if she was in there and it’s okay to lock me in that damn cage for half the day.”

 

Steve looked over at him as they walked the perimeter of the abandoned military site.  “How long were you in the fishbowl?”

 

“Ten hours,” Sam snapped, muttering under his breath.  He glared at Steve.  “That’s cold, man.   _Cold_.  I have your back.”

 

Steve shrugged.  “My back wasn’t spying on Natasha.  You’re lucky it was just Barton and not Banner.  Or Natasha.  She probably would have done worse.”  

 

“Natasha wasn’t even in there,” Sam snapped.

 

“Ah,” Steve said, “so that’s the real problem.”

 

“You know what, man?” Sam said, lips pursed together tightly.  “You just walk over there.  I’ll walk over here.  Okay?”  Steve watched Sam stalk off through the dense brush, trying not to laugh.  

 

Steve wasn’t laughing, hours later, when they were both soaked to the bone and covered in mud.  They found what they were looking for, evidence of that the facility had had some recent military function.  Whether it was Hydra or separatists was impossible to tell.  They took readings that Banner and Stark could sort through later.  Regardless, it was obvious the base had been used very recently.  It was possible it was still being used in some limited capacity.

 

Sam signalled to Steve, and Steve proceeded through the doorway and into the darkened lab.  It smelled like death and decay.  Steve motioned for Sam to follow and they cleared the room.  The next door was heavily reinforced steel, but part of it had been smashed in.  Cautiously, Steve toed the door open and stopped.

 

“What is it?” Sam asked.

 

“A trap,” Steve said.  He stood up and pushed the door open wide.

 

“Cap, what the hell?” Sam snapped.

 

“It’s already been sprung,” Steve said, walking into the room.  He was aware that Sam followed, but all of his attention was fixated on Bucky.  

 

“Whoa, what the - ?” Sam shouted, aiming his weapon at Bucky.

 

Bucky was slumped against the wall in the wreckage of an explosion.  An enormous piece of rebar had been driven through his right shoulder, pinning him to the wall.  The blood was old and viscous and Bucky was hanging limply from the spike, unable to support his own weight.  Steve knew at a glance that he’d been there for days.

 

“Put it down,” Steve said, motioning to Sam.

 

He approached Bucky cautiously.  “Buck?”

 

Bucky’s head lolled toward him and he squinted his eyes.  His lips were dry and cracked, saliva caked in the corners.  “Steve?”

 

Steve was at his side in an instant.  He glanced over his shoulder at Sam.  “Help me.”

 

“Are you nuts?” Sam demanded.  “I’m calling in backup.  This is the guy who nearly killed you in Washington.”

 

Without thinking, Steve grabbed Sam’s radio and smashed it.  “Help me,” he repeated.

 

Sam didn’t argue.  He helped support Bucky’s weight as Steve pulled the rebar free from the wall.  Thankfully, Bucky passed out during the process.  Steve and Sam carried him back into the lab they’d just cleared and laid him out on one of the workbenches.

 

Sam looked down at Bucky.  “I know he’s your friend, Cap,” he said, “but I already told you.  Some people you don’t save.  Some people you stop.”

 

Steve looked at Sam.  “Does he really look like he needs stopping to you?”

 

“Not today,” Sam said cautiously.  “But tomorrow?”

 

“Yeah, well,” Steve said, “we’ll deal with tomorrow later.”

 

* * *

 

 

Sam stood in the middle of the crappy little motel room on the crappy side of a crappy town somewhere in the Slovakian countryside, staring down at Bucky.  Sam hadn’t said anything else, but Steve knew he was hot.  And Steve didn’t particularly blame him.  He knew from a logical perspective, Sam was right.  But Steve also knew he wasn’t coming at this from a logical perspective.  He wasn’t leaving Bucky.  That simply was not an option.  He didn’t care what logic said.

 

He wet the gauze with a sterile saline solution and dabbed at Bucky shoulder.  It was festering, little lines of red radiating away from the wound and it smelled awful.

 

“You know Tony’s going to go apeshit when he finds out about this, right?” Sam said.

 

Steve glanced up at him.  “That’s why Tony’s not going to find out.  Yet.”

 

“What?” Sam demanded.  “Are you going to leave him here?  Guy won’t last a day.  And we’re due out of here at sun up.  There’s no way you can blow that off, especially not with all the stuff with Sharon.  You don’t make the flight back and Tony’ll know what’s up.”

 

“Yeah, I know,” Steve said tightly.  He dabbed at the wound again.  It was oozing.  Bucky’s head lolled on the pillow.  He was feverish and sweating.  “I just ... let me figure something out.”

 

Sam muttered under his breath.  “You know who you should call,” he said reluctantly.

 

Steve looked at him.

 

“The dragonlady,” he said.  “Everything else aside, she seems real good at getting shit done.”

 

“I was already planning on it,” Steve said.  “But I’m sort of busy right now.”

 

“Fucking people,” Sam muttered.  He tapped Steve in the shoulder, motioning for him to move..  “Move out the way,” he snapped.  “I’ll do this.  You go call your scary ass girlfriend for a ride.”

 

* * *

 

 

Sam looked up at Steve as he entered the room.  “Well?”

 

“Landing stip outisde of town,” Steve said, watching Bucky carefully, “six hours.”

 

“Damn,” Sam swore, swabbing the wound with antiseptic, “she moves quick.”  He looked up at Steve.  “Did she have any luck with his medical records?  None of the meds we’ve given him are doing a damn thing.  He’s going to code before we can get him out of here.”

 

“Yeah,” Steve said tightly.  “She said to figure out the lethal dosage based on his weight and go up from there every two hours if it doesn’t seem to be working.”

 

Sam just stared at him.  “You’re kidding?”

 

Steve shook his head gravely.  “I’m not.”  He took a deep breath.  “We should do as Peggy says.”

 

END CHAPTER


	19. Ghosts and Airports

Steve watched the ancient Russian supply plane taxi to a stop.  Almost immediately three people exited, two men and woman.  They were all heavily armed mercenaries, contracted by Peggy to deliver Bucky to the US.

 

The apparent leader approached.  He lowered his weapon and held out his hand.  “Captain Rogers, it’s an honor.  Colonel Frank Clay.”

 

Steve shook his hand.  “Colonel Clay.”

 

“We should get moving,” Clay said pointedly.

 

Steve and Sam supported Bucky between themselves as they made for the plane.  Bucky’s wound seemed to be improving after the increased dosages, but he still wasn’t coherent.  There was an old gurney on the plane, wedged between some seats with rudimentary medical supplies.

 

“What kinda setup you guys got?” Sam asked as they laid Bucky out on the gurney.

 

“Everything we need,” said one of the mercs, with a thick spanish accent.  He held up a list.  “It was all in the orders.  The lady, she knows what she wants.  We deliver.”

 

“That’s Coug,” Clay said to Sam and Steve.  “He knows what he’s doing.”

 

Steve watched as Coug ran an IV and gave Bucky an injection that looked like it could probably kill an elephant.  Every bit of Steve’s conscience demanded that he stay with Bucky, but he knew he had to have faith in Peggy.  She said these guys could get Bucky back to the States in one piece, without Tony knowing.  He believed her.

 

“Unless you gentlemen are catching a lift, I suggest you leave,” Clay said.  “We have a tight timeline to Germany.”

 

Steve nodded and he and Sam headed for the door.  They were nearly smashed into by another merc, carrying a laptop and wearing a baseball cap and bright pink t-shirt.  

 

“Dammit, Jensen, watch where the hell you’re going,” Clay yelled.

 

“My bad,” Jensen said, looking up.

 

Steve had experienced the misfortune of having to watch himself on the news enough times that he knew at a glance that he and Jensen looked a lot alike.  A lot.  Jensen’s glasses, unfortunate facial hair and choice in clothing notwithstanding, they could be twins.  

 

“Holy shit,” Sam cursed.

 

Steve and Jensen both looked at Sam and then back to each other.  Jensen smiled and winked.  “You must be Steve,” he said brightly.  He laughed and pushed between them, heading for Coug.  “I heard your name a lot.”

 

Sam just stared after him.  Steve headed for the door as fast as he could.

 

* * *

 

 

“I’m sorry,” Peggy said quietly, “about  - “

 

“It’s okay,” Steve said.  He sounded tired, worn down.  “It just took me off guard is all.”

 

“Clay was supposed to leave him at home,” Peggy said darkly.  She fully intended to have words with Colonel Clay as soon as they arrived, which should be in the next three hours.  “What time do you ship out?”

 

“An hour,” Steve said.  “We’ll be back in New York by tomorrow morning, your time.”

 

“Steve,” she said gently.  “Be safe.”

 

“I will,” he said.  He sighed.  “You’re sure you can handle Bucky?”

 

“Clay has instructions to keep him heavily sedated,” she said.   “I’m sure we can manage until you get here.”  Truthfully, considering her last interaction with Bucky, Peggy had no idea how it would go.  Apparently he recognized Steve consistently.  Even if he did recognize her, she wasn’t sure he would be happy to see her.

 

“We?” Steve asked.  “You have someone helping you?”

 

“Yes,” Peggy said carefully.  “Sharon.  As a favor to you, I’m certain, but nonetheless.”

 

Peggy could almost hear his frown over the phone.  “You two be careful, okay?” he pressed.

 

“We will,” she said gently.  

 

* * *

 

 

“This guy was responsible for two dozen assassinations in the last fifty years and we’re going to just drive down and pick him up from the airport like he’s Uncle Jimmy here for a weekend visit?” Sharon said dryly, glancing over at Peggy as she drove the van through heavy traffic toward the little airstrip in Jersey.

 

“Not like we haven’t had an airport handoff with him before,” Peggy said quietly.

 

Sharon glanced over at her again.  Peggy knew she’d shocked Sharon with the reference.  Peggy had spent years of her relationship with her daughter avoiding bringing up old wounds.  And that blustery winter day fifty years ago was definitely an old wound.

 

Peggy wasn’t sure she was taking the best tact.  The fact that Sharon had agreed to come at all was a miracle in itself, especially considering that the phone call for Steve was the first time they’d spoken directly to each other in two years.  Peggy knew that Sharon was here for Steve’s benefit, but still, it was progress.  And Peggy knew if she didn’t gain ground quickly, she might never get another chance.

 

“Do you think he’ll remember you?” Sharon asked.

 

“I don’t know,” Peggy said.  She had wondered the same thing herself.  “In sixty-two, we had him for weeks.  He only recognized me a handful of times.”  She sighed.  “He was getting better, towards the end, more glimpses of Bucky.”  

 

Peggy checked her bag again, making sure she had all the meds she needed.  She knew she was breaking a cardinal rule of her recovery with the amount of controlled substances in her possession.  But she didn’t really have another alternative.  Dr. Russo hadn’t been able to procure all the medications he needed in Europe.  And according to the preliminary blood work he did on Bucky, there were serious neurotransmitter issues that needed to be addressed asap.

 

“Bucky’s been out of stasis longer this time,” Peggy continued, “probably longer than he’s ever been out, especially without being wiped.  He remembers Steve.”

 

“They were best friends?” Sharon asked.  

 

Peggy knew Sharon had seen the documentaries.  Sharon knew the official lines on Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes,especially given how much research she’d done into Bucky’s past.  But Peggy also knew that Sharon was asking for a different kind of truth.  

 

“It would have been easy for anyone in Bucky’s position to resent Steve,” Peggy said.  “Their entire lives, Bucky had always been the star, the hero, the charmer.  Steve sat on the sidelines a lot.”  She sighed.  “But to his credit, Bucky didn’t miss a step.  He supported Steve completely, and by extension, Captain America.  He loved him enough to die for him.”

 

Sharon was quiet for a long time, but she finally asked, “Were you and Bucky friends?”

 

“We both loved Steve before he was Captain America,” Peggy said.  “The personal rapport between me and Bucky wasn’t great, but we understood that about each other.  It was its own kind of bond.”

 

“I saw him at work on Tuesday,” Sharon said cautiously.

 

“Steve?”

 

“Yeah,” Sharon said.  “He talked a little bit about the war.  He said that you had only started liking him right about the time you shot him.”

 

“Oh, such fuss,” Peggy said, offended.  “I shot _at_ him.  He was fine.  Not a scratch on him.”

 

“Not on him,” Sharon said, sounding amused, “but you shot him from close enough range and with a large enough calibur weapon that you left permanent scars on a vibranium shield.”

 

“Well,” Peggy admitted, “I _was_ trying to make a point.”  She sighed.  “And he was wrong.”

 

“About what?”

 

“I loved him when he was skinny Steve,” Peggy said quietly.  

 

* * *

 

 

“We see you,” Margaret said into the phone as they watched the plane taxi to a stop in the twilight.  It was an older gulfstream the mercs picked up in Germany, along with Dr. Russo.  With the manifest Margaret provided, it hadn’t had any trouble getting into the country.  “Clay,” she said, “do me a favor and keep Jensen in the bus.”

 

“Roger that,” Clay responded.

 

Sharon pulled the van up to the jet and she and Margaret got out.  There were two mercs already waiting on the tarmac.  Sharon unholstered her weapon, but didn’t raise it.  She watched Margaret walk out of the van and she didn’t miss the immediate reaction of the mercs.  

 

Sharon had watched this scenario her entire life.  Peggy Carter commanded attention with the sheer force of her presence.  She was beautiful and she knew it.  She was smart and she knew it.  If push came to shove, she could probably take the mercs in a fist fight.  But she wouldn’t, because she didn’t need to.  She could usually get whatever she wanted through charm or fear, depending on the situation.

 

One of the mercs, Sharon assumed it must be Clay since he seemed to be in charge, smiled and approached.  Sharon didn’t like him on principal.  They were rogue CIA.  Margaret claimed they’d pissed the wrong people off and been blackballed.  Sharon suspected there was more to the story than that.  There always was.  Clay smiled broadly at Margaret and she reciprocated in kind, shaking his hand.

 

Margaret and Clay stepped to the side as Dr. Russo and one of the mercs, named Coug, unloaded Bucky from the plane and put him in the back of the van on the gurney.  

 

Sharon watched Margaret covertly.  Their conversation in the van had been a departure from every other conversation they had ever had in their long and rocky history.  Margaret actually answered questions, really answered them, not with evasions or intentional misunderstandings or flat out denials.  She shared more than had been specifically asked, rather than hiding behind lies of omission.

 

For the first time in her life, Sharon was questioning just how much of Margaret’s behavior was an act.  She seemed perfectly at ease right now, flirting with Colonel Clay, directing the proceedings on the tarmac.  But somehow, it now rang false to Sharon, when contrasted with her behavior in the van.  Maybe this slick and styled creature who Sharon had spent so much time believing was the true Margaret, was nothing but a mask, to be used when needed.  Maybe, after all this time, Sharon had no idea at all who Margaret really was.

 

Two years ago, when Sharon got the call to pick up Margaret at the airport, everything had stopped on a dime.  Sharon felt like she’d been preparing her whole life for that moment when everything fell apart, and yet, she hadn’t been ready.  There was no satisfaction to be found in the sickly, skeletal figure, incapable of even standing on her own.  Sharon had spent years waiting for Margaret to get her due.  But to see the indomitable Peggy Carter brought so low had legitimately scared Sharon.  It made her feel like the cowering five-year-old again, powerless and alone, left to the whims of fate without a touchstone.

 

Sharon had not enjoyed discovering, that despite all their vitriol, she still cared deeply about Margaret.  Margaret still mattered.  Sharon thought she had moved past that, but clearly not.  And for whatever reason, Margaret had finally reached her limit of self-imposed isolation.  She started reaching out to Sharon, trying to connect in a meaningful way.  

 

It had been too much, too soon, after a lifetime of austerity.  Sharon couldn’t take it, not after so many years of estrangement.  She’d rebuffed all of Margaret’s attempts.  

 

Until now.  

 

She just hoped she wasn’t going to regret it.

  
  


* * *

 

“How is he?” Peggy asked Dr. Russo.

 

The doctor shrugged, looking down at Bucky laid out on Peggy’s spare bed.  “He’s surprisingly resilient,” he said.  “I had to drain the wound and pack it on the flight.  It’s starting to mend already.  He may not need surgery.  His fever has come down, which is good.  But the rest of him ...”  

 

He sighed and Peggy watched him sort through medication bottles and organize them on the nightstand.  He looked up at her.  "To put it mildly, he has a complex neuroanatomy.  Lots of people have spent lots of time poking around in there.  The last thing I want to do is create more problems, but with his brain chemistry the way it was, I have no idea how he was functioning at all. His major monoamide levels were barely measurable.  I consulted with a specialist in the field and he's on an intense regimen to try and correct some of the issues but he will need to be monitored closely."

 

Peggy looked down at Bucky, lying unconscious, heavily sedated.  “Do you have someone?” she asked.

 

Dr. Russo nodded, handing her a card.  “Talk to him as soon as you can.  I gave him a brief overview, but he’ll need to see him in person.  Like I said, I don’t know how this guy has been functioning at all with his levels.  Memory, complex reasoning, even the most basic cognition should have been damn near impossible.  The fact that he was still up and moving and you said he recognized people ...”  He sighed. “I have no idea what to expect from him at normal levels of functioning.”

 

“Do you think it could trigger him?” she asked.  “Revert his old programming?  Make him dangerous?”

 

Dr. Russo shrugged.  “I’d be lying if I said I really had any idea.  Physically, his resiliency is phenomenal.  Does that extend to brain injuries?  I don’t know.  A little tweaking to recalibrate his levels and he may turn him back into the guy he was seventy years ago.  Or it may turn him into a Russian assassin.  I’d keep a weapon handy.”

 

Peggy frowned.  Russo was always such a font of optimism.  At least Steve would be here by morning.  They would have to keep Bucky sedated at least until then.  If he did become aggressive, Steve was the only hope they had of reasoning with him.

 

Peggy watched as Dr. Russo set up an IV.   Sharon was on the terrace, taking a call.  Peggy considered sending her away, arranging for someone more expendable to help.  But she knew that wouldn’t do anything to mend her relationship with Sharon.  Sending her away under the guise of protecting her was what created most of the problems they had.

 

Peggy felt like the entire universe had shifted on its axis.  She spent so many years in solitude of her own devising.  She had perfected the art of being alone in a crowd.  And now, everywhere she looked, it was not just someone, but someone _who mattered_.  Someone she owed.  Someone she couldn’t fail.

 

Dr. Russo packed up his supplies.  “Call me if his condition turns,” he said.  "I'll be back in a few hours."

 

Peggy nodded and followed him out, locking up after him.  Pushing the door closed, she leaned back against it and looked across the apartment.  Sharon was still out on the terrace, phone in hand.  She had a good idea of who Sharon was talking to, and why, but she wasn’t going to push.

 

Peggy knew something had happened with Sharon.  The ride out to the airstrip had seemed okay, good even.  But Sharon hadn’t uttered a word to her in two hours and she was keeping her distance.  Peggy thought she understood.  This amount of change was a lot to take, especially for someone as careful and controlled as Sharon.

 

Shaking her head, Peggy walked back to the guest room and sat down in a chair next to the bed, watching Bucky.  She reached out and brushed his hair back, out of his face.  Steve was right, Bucky was too thin, too pale.  He looked like a ghost.  Worse even than he’d looked back in sixty-two.  With everything Dr. Russo explained, it was no wonder.

 

Sighing, Peggy rose to her feet and walked to the master suite on the other side of the apartment.  The bed was still littered with the clothing items she had taken out of drawers, making room for Steve.  She shoved them all onto the floor and sat down on the bed, pulling off her boots.  She took a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt out of the closet and quickly changed.

 

More comfortable, Peggy walked out into the kitchen.  She poured warm water in a large bowl and grabbed a stack of dishtowels and various other supplies.  It was the wee hours of the morning.  Sharon had finally come inside from the terrace.  She was sitting on the couch, looking at the Vonnegut book Steve had been reading, her gun within reach on the coffee table in front of her.

 

Peggy went back into the bedroom and took a seat on the bed next to Bucky’s supine form.  She wet one of the cloths and wrang it out before carefully wiping Bucky’s face and neck.  She took the pair of scissors she had brought and cut him out of his filthy shirt.  After she managed to maneuver the material out from under him, she wiped down his torso and arm.  Her fingers lingered on the consecutive rows of scars along his ribcage.  They were old, faint.

 

“Recent torture?”

 

Peggy turned to see Sharon standing in the doorway, watching, her expression grim.  Peggy turned back to Bucky.  “Torture,” Peggy said quietly.  “But not recent.”

 

Sharon stepped farther into the room.  “How do you know?”  

 

Peggy looked up at her daughter and then pulled up her own shirt, bunching the material under her breasts.  She knew that the matching set of scars was visible.  “There’s not much these days that will leave scars on us,” she said blandly, pulling her shirt down again.

 

Sharon sat down in the chair Peggy had vacated earlier.  Peggy resumed wiping the grime and sweat from Bucky’s torso.  When she finished, she removed his heavy boots and socks, and covered him with a blanket.

 

“I think I have a pretty good idea of the benefits that Steve got from the serum,” Sharon said.  “What about you and Bucky?  What did you two get?”

  
Peggy looked at Bucky.  “The ability to endure,” she said quietly.  “Even when we don’t want to.”

 

END CHAPTER

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As far as I know, one of the Russo brothers was the one who played the doctor who patched up Natasha at Fury's secret hideout. It was an uncredited role with no name I can find, so he's just Dr. Russo. Work with me here.


	20. Homecoming

Peggy rubbed the back of her neck, stretching.  It was a little after four.  She needed coffee.  Getting up as quietly as possible, she walked out to the kitchen and grabbed an iced coffee out of the fridge.  Sharon was still on the couch, reading the Vonnegut book.  

 

Peggy fumbled with the coffee, dropping the lid.  She bent to pick it up and when she straightened up again, she went deathly still.  Sharon was standing on the other side of the island, gun in hand.  It wasn’t pointed at Peggy, it was pointed just over her left shoulder and Peggy knew from the look on Sharon’s face that she wouldn’t hesitate to take the shot.

 

Turning slowly, Peggy looked at Bucky.  He was standing, though not steady, only a few feet from where she stood.   His arm was bleeding where he’d torn out the IV.  The interconnecting plates of his metal arm shifted, though Peggy didn’t think it was in response to any conscious decision from Bucky.

 

Without looking behind her, Peggy held out her hand to Sharon, willing her to lower her weapon.  “Bucky?”

 

He finally looked at her.  “Peggy?”

 

“Yeah,” she said quietly, slowly approaching him.  “It’s Peggy.  You’re in my home.”

 

He frowned, looking down at his bleeding arm.  He winced, finally seeming to notice the gaping hole in his shoulder.  He looked around.  “Is Steve here?”

 

“Not right now,” she said.  “He’ll be home in a few hours.”

 

“Was he - “ Bucky started and then stopped frowning.  “I remember,” he said.  He touched his shoulder, wincing again.  “I remember.”

 

“He patched you up,” Peggy said gently, slowly approaching him so that she was between him and Sharon.  “Him and Sam.  They sent you to me for safekeeping until Steve can get here.”

 

Bucky looked at her and then past her at Sharon.  He frowned.  “I remember her,” he said.  “From the runway.”

 

Peggy’s blood ran cold.  Oh god, what was Bucky remembering?  That she betrayed him?  That she took his trust and used it to hand him back to the men who tortured him?  She grasped for the only explanation she could think of that might hold weight with Bucky.  “She’s Steve’s daughter.”

 

Bucky laughed with incredulity.  “Steve’s daughter?”  He looked at Peggy and then seemed to realize she was serious, frowning.  “She’s Steve’s daughter?  Steve has a daughter?”

 

“Yeah, Bucky,” Peggy said, reaching out and gently touching his forearm.  “Steve and I have a daughter.  She needs to rest.  We should get you back to your room so you can rest too.”

 

He stood there, staring at Sharon.  Finally, he looked back to Peggy.  “You shoulda told me,” he said.  “On the airplane.”

 

“Told you what, Bucky?” she asked.

 

“You shoulda told me she was your and Steve’s daughter,” he said.  “I woulda gone with them, no problem, to keep your little girl safe.”

 

Peggy stood there, unable to breathe.  Tears tracked down her cheeks.  

 

Bucky frowned at her, reaching out awkwardly to pull her close.  “Don’t cry, Peg.  It’s okay.  We’ll all be okay.  I just need to lay down for a little bit.  I feel awful.”

 

* * *

 

Sharon heard the key in the door shortly after dawn and automatically drew her weapon.  Steve pushed the door open and she sighed, lowering the gun.

 

“Hey,” he said quietly, quickly closing the distance between them and enveloping her in a hug.  “Thank you for helping.  How is everything?”

 

Sharon returned the hug and then pulled back, brushing her hair out of her eyes in a nervous gesture.  “Okay,” she said, nodding.  “He’s finally out again.”  She looked at her phone.  “Russo’s supposed to be back to check on him in an hour.”

 

“ _Again_?” Steve asked, features tight.

 

Sharon nodded.  “He woke up a few hours ago.  It was ... tense.  But it worked out okay.  He didn’t try to hurt anybody.  He was just looking for you.  He recognized Margaret.  And me.”

 

Steve frowned in obvious confusion.  Sharon didn’t have any explanation to offer him, so she led him to the guest room and stood in the doorway, watching.  Margaret was sitting in the chair next to the bed.  Steve stopped and looked at her and then continued on to Barnes.  He reached out and touched Barnes’ arm lightly.

 

Sharon turned and went back out into the kitchen.  She made a pot of coffee and by the time it was brewing, Margaret had joined her in the kitchen.  “Is he awake again?” Sharon asked.

 

“That last dose I gave him was pretty big.  I think he’ll probably be out for a while yet,” Margaret said.  She stretched and then gathered her hair back in a low ponytail before pouring two cups of coffee, handing one to Sharon and taking the other herself.

 

They were both standing there, in the kitchen when Steve approached.  He had taken off the jacket he was wearing earlier, leaving him in a white t-shirt and jeans.  He walked up behind Margaret.  She immediately leaned back into him, sighing, seeming to crumple against him in relief.  She didn’t protest as he reached around her and took her coffee cup, downing half of it in two large gulps.  He offered it back to her and she shook her head, so he finished it and set the empty cup on the counter.

 

Turning, Margaret wrapped an arm around his waist, resting her head against his chest.  He held her close, resting his chin on the top of her head.

 

Sharon tried not to stare.  Their easy rapport, while perfectly innocuous, was undeniably intimate.  Sharon knew she’d never seen Margaret so trusting with anyone.  And Sharon couldn’t remember if she’d ever seen anyone actually touch Steve, unless they were throwing a punch.  Both Steve and Margaret usually seemed so self-contained.  But together they were ...

 

“I’m gonna - “ Sharon said, pointing at the door, “ _go_.”

 

“You haven’t slept at all,” Margaret said.  “Are you sure you don’t want to catch a little rest?  There’s a sofa in the office.”

 

Sharon shook her head.  “I have a meeting this morning that I can’t miss.  I’ll stop by later.”

 

Steve followed her to the door, stopping her as she crossed the threshold.  “Thank you,” he said seriously, “for everything.”

 

Sharon nodded and turned to the elevator.

 

* * *

 

Steve closed the door and returned to the kitchen.  Peggy was standing there, leaning against the counter, watching him.  He walked up to her, pinning her against the counter and kissed her deeply.  She responded easily, wrapping her arms around his waist.

 

He finally pulled away, pressing a kiss to her temple.  She hugged him close.  They stood there for long minutes.

 

“I guess you and Sharon got along okay?” he asked quietly.

 

Peggy nodded.  “It was ... not a disaster.  Which is saying a lot.”

 

“She’s just a little gunshy is all,” Steve said.

 

Peggy rested her head against his chest, but didn’t respond.  He decided not to push.  As much as he wanted to hurry along their reconciliation, he knew both of them well enough to know they’d do it in their own time.  If they did it at all.

 

She shifted, curling against him, hugging him tighter.  “I’m glad you’re home,” she said quietly.

 

He kissed the top of her head.  “Me too.”

  
END CHAPTER


	21. Bucky's Feeling Better.  God Help Us All.

Peggy watched as Steve helped Bucky sit on the couch.  He was still pretty out of it, swaying a bit, but he was awake.  He hadn’t spoken again, but he watched everyone, Steve, the doctor and Peggy.  Bucky grimaced as Dr. Russo tightened the bandage at his shoulder.

 

“The shoulder looks really good,” the doctor said, his surprise evident.  Peggy watched as he walked to the island and wrote out instructions.  He handed them to her, his expression tight.  “Call the neurologist and we’re even,” he said.  “I won’t go behind Fury’s back again.”

 

Peggy nodded and then motioned to the door, seeing him out.

 

When she walked back into the living room, Steve was sitting on the couch, next to Bucky.  

 

“Where’s your girl?” Bucky asked.

 

“Sharon?” Steve asked, looking over at Peggy in question.  Peggy nodded at him.  He turned back to Bucky.  “She had to leave, Buck.  She’ll be back later.”

 

Bucky looked at Peggy.  “Was she okay?  Did they hurt her?  She looks ... older now.  And kinda pissed off.”

 

Steve’s brow was furrowed in confusion and he looked at Peggy again.  She cautiously approached them and took a seat in a chair, opposite the couch.  “They didn’t hurt her,” Peggy said quietly.  “And she wasn’t mad, she was just concerned.”

 

Bucky laughed uneasily.  “ _Concerned_.  Gotta remember that one.  She had me dead to rights.”  He sighed, frowning.  “I just need to ... rest.”  

 

Steve and Peggy made sure he was comfortable on the couch and retreated into the kitchen.

 

“What was that about?” Steve quietly asked Peggy.

 

She looked up at him frowning and then looked at Bucky.  It looked like he was asleep.  Not that it mattered.  It would all come out eventually.  If he disagreed with her version of events, he was more than entitled to say so.

 

Slowly, she related the entire story to Steve, of going to London to meet Sharon, bringing her back to New York, the SSR finding Bucky.  She told Steve how Bucky had been, feral with no sign of the man she’d known.  She related how, in desperation, she recreated the conditions of that horrible night on the run, after they rescued her from Hydra, and how Bucky seemed to remember, however briefly.

 

With a deep breath, she told Steve how she received the ransom note the next day.  And the picture of Sharon.  Of how Bucky had finally recognized her on the flight to the trade, how he’d known who she was.  And how she lied to his face, drugged him and turned him back over to his captors in exchange for Sharon.  

 

Steve just looked at her.  

 

She met his gaze defiantly.  “My reputation as a cast iron bitch was hard earned.”

 

“ _Peggy_ ,” he said, frowning, pulling her close.  “You made the right call.  You have to know that.”

 

She let him hold her, but she didn’t return the embrace. He sighed and she knew he was frustrated with her.  She wondered at how it must seem now, knowing that Bucky and Sharon were both safe.  Fifty years ago, it had been a very different story.

 

She traced her hand up his arm, feeling the sinew and definition.  “You’re not eating enough,” she said.  “You need to take better care of yourself.”

 

He frowned at her, but she knew that he knew she was right.  His bone structure, while always impressive, was in harsher relief than usual.  She knew that with his metabolism, it was a chore to consume enough calories to keep weight on, but he had to do it in order to do his job.

 

“Did you sleep at all on the flight?” she asked.

 

“Not much,” Steve said.

 

“Go on,” she said, pushing him toward the bedroom.  “I’ll keep an eye on him.  He’s going to be out for a while.”

 

Steve frowned, but retreated toward the bedroom.

 

* * *

 

 

“Damn, Cap,” Sam said, smacking Steve in the shoulder.  “This place is _nice_.”

 

Groggily, Steve opened his eyes to see Sam investigating Peggy’s bedroom.  It was late afternoon and there were long shadows bisecting the room.  He rubbed his eyes.  “What are you doing?”

 

“Just gettin’ the lay of the land,” Sam replied smoothly.  “Sharon’s out there repacking that wound.  She had a really big syringe and she’s irrigating it.”  He made a face.  “Don’t judge.  We all have our triggers.  I can put up with a hell of a lot.”

 

Steve sat up.  “Peggy’s gonna give _you_ a wound to pack if she finds you in her bedroom.”

 

Sam appeared to take the information under consideration as he looked at the open, empty drawers.  “You and dragonlady movin’ in?” he asked.

 

Steve rolled his shoulders, stretching.  “We haven’t really gotten that far,” he said.

 

“Yeah, I can see that,” Sam said dryly, “you always seem so casual in your romantic encounters.  I’m sure you’re just playing it by ear, hookin’ up when you get the itch.”

 

“Get out,” Steve barked.

 

* * *

 

 

Steve showered and headed out to the kitchen.  Bucky was awake.  He was quiet, but seemed alert, watchful.  He still looked like hell, white as a sheet, with red-rimmed eyes, and in serious need of a delousing.  

 

Sam and Sharon were out on the terrace.  There was a box of pizza sitting open on the island.  Steve took a piece and motioned to Bucky.  “Want one?”

 

“Sure,” Bucky said.

 

Steve grabbed the box and set it on the coffee table.  He handed Bucky a piece and they sat side by side on the couch, eating their way through the pie.  Peggy had told him what the doctor said about Bucky’s brain chemistry and it made sense considering how out of it he’d been.  But Steve was still shocked at how normal Bucky seemed.  Admittedly, they hadn’t spoken a lot, but his entire posture was different, relaxed.

 

The neurologist was supposed to be here later this evening.  Hopefully he would have some kind of prognosis.

 

Grabbing another piece of pizza, Steve looked over his shoulder at the terrace.

 

“So .. “ Bucky said, “you have a daughter.”

 

“Yeah,” Steve said quietly, nodding.

 

“My memory is getting a lot better,” Bucky said, looking over at him.  “I always knew you two were doin’ it.  And after all the hell you gave me about broads.”

 

Steve was quickly reevaluating the merits of Bucky being back to normal.  “It wasn’t like that,” he said, frowning.

 

“It was,” Bucky countered.  “She’s standing right there.”  He nodded his head toward the terrace.

 

Steve’s frown deepened.  “It wasn’t dames,” he said quietly.  “It was Peggy.  Once.”

 

Bucky raised his eyebrows.  “ _Once_?”

 

“Well, one day.  One _night_ ,” he amended.  “A night. And part of a morning.”

 

Bucky snorted.  “Thank God, Peggy finally cornered you, otherwise you woulda died a virgin.”

 

“ _Bucky, Bucky_ ,” Steve swore, “this is my family you’re talking about.”

 

Bucky held up his hand in surrender.  “No disrespect,” he said.  “I’m just glad Peggy isn’t afraid to lead, is all.”

 

Steve shook his head.  “You don’t know that.”

 

“I _do_ know that,” Bucky said seriously.  “If you’d loosened up on your moral code, you coulda had her that day we walked back into camp after Azzanno.  You coulda had months, instead of just a day.”

 

“ _Bucky_!”

 

Bucky shook his head.  “I’m not sayin’ she was issuing open invitations.  You’re the only one she ever had eyes for.  What I’m saying is _you’re_ an idiot.”

 

Steve sighed.  Considering he spent the last two years thinking of himself as the world’s leading expert on waiting too long, he couldn’t really refute what Bucky was saying.  Steve took another bite of pizza and looked over his shoulder again at Sharon and Sam.

 

“She can take ‘im,” Bucky said around a bite.

 

Steve looked over at his friend.  “You’ve been awake for two hours in the last five days, what do you know about it?”

 

“I know enough to know that she’s scarier than you,” Bucky said dryly, giving Steve a meaningful look.  “She’s a lot like Peggy.”

 

Steve sat there, eating the last piece of pizza.  “You remember Sharon?” he asked.  “From ... before?”

 

“When she was a kid?” Bucky asked.  When Steve nodded, he said, “Yeah, I remember.  Things used to come and go.”  He shrugged, “but mostly now they stay put.”  

 

He took a deep breath.  “I don’t think I ever saw Peggy so scared.  It’s one of those idiot things that people think, right?  Like a damsel in distress, needing help  But Peggy Carter scared out of her mind was pretty fucking terrifying.  She would have done anything for that girl.”

 

Steve sat there, pondering Bucky’s words.

 

“It reminded me of the way you looked when Peggy went missing,” Bucky added.

 

They were both still sitting on the couch when the door opened and Peggy walked in.  She was carrying a bag and she looked at them curiously.  “Did I interrupt something?” she asked.

 

“No,” Bucky said, “just reminiscing about you and Steve going completely apeshit when you’re worried about people you’re pretending not to care about.”

 

Peggy rolled her eyes and set the bag on the counter.  “Apparently he’s feeling better,” she said.

 

“Yeah,” Steve said dryly.  “Lucky us.”

  
END CHAPTER


	22. Delousing, Preventative Measures and the Venga Man

“Okay, hold that,” Peggy said, tearing the piece of tape as Sharon held the plastic taut against Bucky’s skin.

 

“This is getting a bit ridiculous, don’t ya think?” Bucky asked.

 

“Shut up,” Peggy said.  “You’re the one with a metal arm and a bad shoulder.”  She had no idea if the metal arm was water tight or not.  She assumed it probably was, but she felt it best not to risk it.  If something went haywire with it, they wouldn’t be able to fix it without Tony’s help.  Plus, how the hell would you wash your hair with metal fingers?  Especially his hair.  The strands would just get caught in the joints and ripped out.  No doubt it was a fantastic design for killing people.  Much less so for living one’s life.

 

Bucky was silent as Peggy and Sharon finished wrapping his arms in plastic.  Peggy was tempted to get her phone and take a picture, but decided that discretion was the better part of valor.  Even if he did look every bit as ridiculous as he felt.  

 

They were all inside the walk-in shower in Peggy’s master bathroom.  Bucky was sitting on the little tile covered bench, wearing a pair of shorts borrowed from Sam’s gym bag.  Peggy and Sharon were both in shorts and t-shirts.

 

Sharon turned on the water and let it warm while Peggy grabbed the shampoo and shower gel.  “Do you have something against bathing?” Peggy asked him.

 

“It wasn’t exactly a priority,” Bucky said.  “I was sort of busy being a brainwashed Russian assassin.”

 

“Soviet,” Peggy said out of habit.

 

Sharon bit back a snort.  Bucky looked at her meaningfully.  “She’s always been like this,” he said, sotto voce.  “Always a stickler.”

 

Peggy glared at the two of them, taking the shower head from Sharon and shooting Bucky in the face with warm water.  He flinched, closing his eyes and looking down so she could get his hair wet.  “Someone had to be,” she said sourly.  “Lord knows it wasn’t going to be any of the fellas.”

 

“I distinctly remember you having me court martialed for saving your ass,” Bucky said from beneath the curtain of wet hair.

 

“I _threatened_ to have you court martialed,” she said.  “You and Steve are so bloody dramatic.”  She squeezed a lump of shampoo on top of his head and scrubbed vigorously at his grimy locks.

 

“You guys doing okay in here?” Steve asked.  He was standing in the doorway to the bathroom, arms crossed over his chest, frowning at the proceedings.

 

Bucky flipped his hair back so he could see and scowled.  “Scram, Steve.  We’re busy.”

 

Steve frowned harder, but looked at Peggy.  “Let me know if you need help.”

 

“Nobody needs help, Steve,” Bucky said.  “Go away.  Go make sure Sam’s okay.  He was looking touch and go.  Me and the girls are fine.  We haven’t even gotten to the shower gel yet.”

 

* * *

 

 

Peggy saw the neurologist out and walked back into the kitchen where Steve, Sam and Sharon were clustered.  Bucky was on the couch.  He had been looking better after the pizza and shower, but it was getting late and the neurologist had drawn a lot of blood.  He was looking pretty poorly again.

 

Sharon cocked her head toward the door.  “I’m going to head out.  It’s late.”

 

“You need me to stay?” Sam asked Steve quietly.

 

“You going to make sure I don’t murder them in their sleep, birdie?” Bucky yelled from the couch.

 

Sam crossed his arms over his chest and turned toward Bucky.  “That’s the general idea, yes,” he yelled back.  Adding, “ _asshole_ ,” under his breath.  “And I don’t think a guy called Bucky gets to be taking cracks at my name.”

 

Steve shook his head.  “We’re fine.  I doubt Killer there is going to be getting off the couch tonight.  We’re gonna watch the game.  I’ll let you know if we need anything.  I really appreciate all your help.”

 

“Okay, man,” Sam said, looking unconvinced.  He and Sharon headed for the door.

 

Peggy walked to the couch, looking down at Bucky.  He looked terrible.

 

“I really wish people could stop poking holes in me for a little while,” he said.

 

She frowned down at him, but reached over and adjusted one of his pillows.  Steve took a seat next to him on the couch, turning on the baseball game.  Peggy turned and headed to the bedroom.  She stopped at the hallway and looked at the two of them, sitting side by side watching the game.  

 

She really hoped Bucky didn’t go berserk and try and kill them all.  It would really put a damper on things, just when they’d been going so well.  Not that it could last, regardless.  Tony would find out eventually and there would be one hell of a shit show.

 

Peggy was beyond exhausted.  She had intended to try and catch some sleep after Sharon and Sam arrived in the afternoon, but there hadn’t been time.  She turned on the lamp in the bedroom and looked around.  

 

The clothes she’d taken out of the drawers to make room for Steve were still scattered on the floor.  Frowning, she picked them up and dumped them in the closet.  She’d deal with them later.  The bed was unmade from where Steve had slept earlier, which oddly tugged at her heartstrings.  She changed into an old t-shirt and climbed between the sheets, asleep almost instantly.

 

* * *

 

 

When she opened her eyes, it was morning.  Steve was asleep next to her, an arm thrown over his eyes to block out the light.  She had no idea what time he’d finally come to bed.  She stretched and he rolled over, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close.

 

They kissed for a long time, touching and feeling.  They made love languidly, just enjoying one another.  As Steve rolled over to dispose of the condom, Peggy stared up at the ceiling.  She brushed her hair back from her forehead.

 

“I want a permanent means of birth control,” she said.  She looked over at him.

 

He lay down next to her on his side, looking at her.  “Okay,” he said.

 

“I made an appointment with my doctor,” she said.  “On Tuesday.”

 

He propped his head up on his fist, looking at her.  “I can take care of it,” he said.  “Surely it’s easier for me than for you.”

 

She looked at him and shook her head.  “No.”

 

“What do you mean ‘no’?” he asked.  “I’m not great with biology, but I’m pretty sure it’s yes.”

 

She pushed herself up into a sitting position, looking at him.  She took a deep breath.  “Steve, I already had a baby,” she said.  “I’ve run the gamut with Sharon.  I just ... I don’t want to do that again.  Not now.  I can’t.  Not after everything that’s happened.”

 

He nodded.  “I understand,” he said.  “I can take care of it.”

 

She shook her head.  “ _No_.”

 

His brow creased as he looked at her.  “Why not?”

 

“Because what if - “  She stopped and frowned.  “What if you want to have a family one day?”

 

He pushed himself into a sitting position, looking at her, his expression icy.  “I love you,” he said quietly, carefully.  “And I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”  He threw his legs over the side of the bed and stood up.

 

“Steve,” she said quietly.  “It’s just ... what if this doesn’t - “

 

His look caused her to fall silent.  He was angry.  She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him angry like that, definitely not at her.  He went into the bathroom and shut the door.  Peggy flopped back on the bed, cursing.

 

* * *

 

 

Peggy went out to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator.  “Do you eat oatmeal?” she asked.

 

“I like steak,” Bucky said.

 

“Do you eat oatmeal?” Peggy asked again.

 

He sighed.  “Yes.”

 

She set the pan of water on the stove.  When it boiled, she poured in the oats, stirring them and turning down the heat.  Steve walked into the kitchen and made a pot of coffee.  They were mindful not to bump into one another.

 

“Should I go back in the guest room so you two can fight?” Bucky asked.

 

“No,” Steve said at the same time Peggy said, “Yes.”

 

He turned and frowned down at her.  She looked up at him defiantly, chin sticking out.  He sighed and slowly reached out, taking her hand.  He tugged at her a few times until she relented and let him hold her.  He pressed a kiss to her temple.  “I love you,” he whispered.

 

She finally wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him back.  She loved him so much it hurt.

 

“We’re not fighting,” Steve said to Bucky.

 

“If you think that’s true, you’re an idiot,” Bucky replied.

 

Peggy shook her head and counted out all of Bucky’s medication.  She handed him the pills and a glass of water. He frowned, but took them.  Peggy looked at his shoulder.  It was a lot better.  His color looked good too.  He still needed a haircut.  Perhaps if she threatened to braid it ...

 

Bucky made it to the island unassisted and ate his oatmeal with only a few grimaces of pain.  “I gotta find a place to stay,” he said.

 

“You can stay at my place,” Steve said.  “It’s in Brooklyn.”

 

Bucky arched an eyebrow at him.  “You can afford a place in Brooklyn?  I was watching the news earlier.  Do you have any idea what my folks’ apartment would go for these days?”

 

“They tore those buildings down,” Steve said bitterly.  “Gentrification.  And don’t get excited about my place.  It’s a shoebox.  Makes the Venga Man’s place look like a castle.”

 

“Oh my God,” Bucky said, looking at him.  “I forgot about the Venga Man.  Jesus.  Talk about a throwback.”

 

Peggy arched an eyebrow.  “The Venga Man?”

 

Steve shook his head.  “You don’t wanna know.”

 

Bucky frowned in agreement.  “He was a nasty old pervert. Lived in a shack right between my building and Steve’s.  He was always sitting on his stoop, watching the kids.  Trying to get them to come inside his place. He’d always crook his finger at you and whisper ‘ _venga_ ’.”

 

“Yeah, well,” Steve said, “you just had to walk your sisters by him.  I actually had to fight him off myself.”

 

Bucky smiled over at him.  “You always were so pretty, Stevie.  With those lips and those lashes.”

 

“Jerk,” Steve snapped.

 

Peggy looked at Steve.  “Did he ever - “

 

“Hell no, he never got me,” Steve swore.  “I may have been little, but I was quick.”

 

“Be proud of yourself, Peggy,” Bucky said sagely.  “You’re the only person on this earth capable of parting Steve and his virtue.  No one else could catch him.”

 

Peggy just looked at Bucky, deadpan.  “Oh, was it supposed to be difficult?”

 

Bucky laughed and patted Steve on the shoulder.  

 

The conversation finally turned to more pressing matters.  LIke what the hell they were going to do about Tony.  The short answer was no one knew.  And until they knew, Bucky needed to keep a low profile.  They went back and forth about whether or not staying at Steve’s place would be a good idea and in the end, came to no consensus.

 

Bucky yawned and scrubbed his hand over his face, groaning.  “God, what day is it?”

 

“Sunday,” Peggy replied, taking a drink of coffee.

 

“Sunday,” Bucky said.  He looked at her.  “What _year_ is it?”

 

She shrugged.  “I’ve completely lost count.”

 

“Thank God,” Bucky said.  “I thought it was just me.”  He laughed a little hysterically.  “You know, being frozen really plays hell with your sense of time.”

 

Steve nodded, taking a bite of oatmeal.  “I know what you mean, but Peggy was never frozen.”

 

Bucky frowned at her in question.  

 

She shook her head.  “Sharon wasn’t either.  We just ... don’t age.”

 

Bucky just watched her.  “That sounds ... horrible.  God, weren’t you bored?”

 

“Beyond belief,” Peggy said.  “Were you awake for the ‘90s?  They were interminable.”

  
  


END CHAPTER


	23. Boxes of Memories and Pain

Sharon sat at the island, frowning.  “Are we doing something for Steve’s birthday?”  

 

Steve and Bucky were out in the hallway, walking laps since taking Bucky out in broad daylight probably wasn’t a great idea.  His wound was recovering quickly, but he needed to build up stamina.

 

“That’s the plan,” Peggy said.  “Though I don’t know what.  His only request was that we all be together.”

 

“What are you getting him?” Sharon asked.

 

“Underwear and lottos.”

 

Sharon gave her a withering frown.  “What are you _really_ getting him?”

 

Peggy sighed.  “A sketchbook and pencils,” she said.  “And I have some pictures, of his parents.  I thought I’d frame them.”

 

Sharon’s brow furrowed.  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen pictures of his parents.”  

 

Peggy knew that was probably true.  They were some of the few items she hadn’t given the Smithsonian permission to use.  “Do you want to see them?” she asked.

 

“Yes,” Sharon said carefully.  “I do.”

 

Peggy went into her office and took a crate off one of the shelves.  She brought it back into the kitchen, taking a seat at the island next to Sharon.  Carefully, she began removing things.  In a folder on top, there were photos, one each of Steve’s parents and then one of them together, on their wedding day.  Steve looked like his mother.

 

Sharon studied them closely.  She looked at the crate and then to Peggy.  “Can I ...?”

 

“Yes,” Peggy said, scooting the crate toward her.

 

Sharon took out a framed picture, of Steve, on his first day at Camp Lehigh.  She looked at Peggy.  “I’ve never seen this picture of him.”

 

Peggy nodded, leaning back in her chair.  “I stole it out of the SSR’s Project Rebirth files after the war,” she said.  “I didn’t want it to be lost.”  She frowned, taking a breath.  “That’s who Steve will always be to me.  Not a perfect soldier, but a good man.  Dr. Erskine chose well.”

 

Sharon just looked at her, but said nothing.  She continued looking through the box.  There were a lot of pictures.  Some of Bucky and his family, quite a few of the Howling Commandos.  There were pictures of Peggy’s parents.  There were pictures of her brothers, all of whom died in the war.  There was a sketch, of Peggy, drawn by Steve, of her warming her toes by a fire.  There was an undershirt, with the name Rogers written on the inside of the collar.  There were a lot of newspaper clippings.

 

“Has he seen this box?” Sharon asked.

 

Peggy shook her head, frowning.  “No, though I don’t think anything in there would surprise him.  He’s seen most of it before.  Half the things were his to begin with.”

 

Sharon just looked at her.  She turned back to the crate and took out another box.

 

Peggy sighed.  “Those he hasn’t seen. Not yet.”

 

Sharon looked curious, but again, remained silent. She opened the box lid and went very still.  Carefully she removed the little flannel blanket.

 

Peggy pressed her lips together.  She blinked quickly.

 

There was a small envelope, which Peggy knew contained two locks of hair.  One dark, from when Sharon was newborn, and then one blonde, from when she was a toddler.  There was a little paper, old and crumbling, with her footprints on it.  There were pictures from her childhood, obtained through her adoptive family.  There were class pictures and copies of report cards.  There was her application letter for her internship in London.

 

But under those, were more.  There were honor roll reports, clipped out of newspapers, from when Sharon was in college.  There were cards she’d sent to Daniel over the years, along with a few photographs.  There were copies of commendation letters she’d received as part of SHIELD, photos from her official ID cards.  There were several case files from her higher profile cases.

 

The door opened and Bucky and Steve walked in the apartment.  Bucky was looking a little pale, but good.  Steve walked over to the island, standing directly between Sharon and Peggy’s chairs, one hand on the back of each.  “What are you doing?”

 

“Looking through old things,” Peggy said, forcing a bright smile.  She was glad her voice hadn’t cracked.

 

Steve looked over Sharon’s shoulder at the items.  He picked up the little blanket.  Peggy took the folder with the pictures of his parents and surreptitiously slid it under the crate, out of view.  Bucky walked over to the island, standing on the far side, watching Steve and Sharon.  

 

Peggy took the first box of photos they’d looked at and slid it toward Bucky.  He started thumbing through it, paying close attention to the bits about his family.  Peggy hadn’t been overly diligent, but she had made the occasional newspaper clipping when she knew it involved one of his close family members.

 

“Ruthie married Donald Ross?” Bucky said with a groan.  “That guy was such an asshole.”

 

“Who’s Ruthie?” Sharon asked.

 

“Bucky’s baby sister,” Steve replied, still leafing through Sharon’s commendation letters.  “Donald wasn’t a bad guy.  His family just had a lot of money.”

 

“You know,” Bucky said, “I always kinda held out hope for you and Ruthie.”

 

“Why?” Steve asked, clearly shocked.  “Because we were the same height?  She was fifteen, Buck.”

 

“I didn’t think you’d be interested when she was fifteen,” Bucky replied acerbically, shaking his head.  “I meant later.  When she was grown.  Besides, how was I supposed to know you were saving yourself for Carter?”

 

“ _Bucky_ ,” Steve said, the warning in his voice clear.

 

“Oh,” Bucky said, looking pointedly at Sharon.  “Not in front of the kid?  She’s seventy fucking years old.  I’m guessing she knows where babies come from.”

 

Sharon laughed and Steve walked around the island, clamping his arm around Bucky’s shoulders and walking him down the hall to the guest room.

 

Sharon looked over at Peggy.  “Were they always like this?”

 

Peggy frowned, considering.  “They always fought like brothers,” she said.  “Bucky didn’t used to bust Steve’s chops quite so badly.  I think now he thinks Steve can take it.”

 

“Because now he has you?” Sharon asked.

 

Peggy arched an eyebrow.  “Because now he has all of us, I think.  Before, Bucky was his only family.”  Peggy sighed.  “Plus, Bucky’s a jackass.  He was never going to be able to behave for long.”

 

“The jackass is going to stay in his room and contemplate what he’s done,” Steve said.

 

“What’s he really doing?” Peggy asked.

 

“Re-taping that shoulder,” Steve said.  “He said it was bothering him.  And I think he wanted to read through those clippings about his sisters again.  I’m not sure he’s ever tried to find out what happened to them.”

 

Steve was standing on the other side of the island, hands braced against it.  He leaned forward and looked in the crate of keepsakes.  “You have my shirt?” he asked.  He shook his head.  “I had no idea you were a klepto.”

 

“Trust me when I tell you,” Peggy said, “that you do not want to start a conversation about taking other people’s things.”

 

Steve had the decency to look chagrinned.  Peggy had searched high and low for her missing undergarments after their night together.  She hadn’t found them until she’d gone through his footlocker months later.  Of course, at the time it had done nothing but add to her heartache.

 

Sharon and Steve continued looking through the crate.  Steve explained to her who all the Howlies were, though Peggy suspected Sharon already knew.  She humored him, asking questions.  And maybe she wasn’t humoring him.  Maybe it was just a point of connection, to hear it from the source.

 

Peggy dug through the refrigerator and then got out the blender.  She mixed up a protein shake for Steve, which, admittedly, was a rather unappetizing shade of gray.  He frowned.  

 

“You’re too thin,” she said, repeating her admonition from the previous day.  “Drink it.”

 

He frowned again, but didn’t argue.  He drank the shake with alarming quickness.  Sharon watched the byplay with interest.

 

Eventually, the lure of memories waned.  “When do you ship out again?” Peggy asked.

 

Steve sighed.  “Usually on Tuesdays,” he said.  “But I haven’t been in the office at all. I haven’t written up a schedule.”

 

“So, can you get fired from Avenging for that?” Sharon asked cheekily.

 

Steve frowned at her.  “They’d never find anybody else to work for what they pay me,” he said bitterly.  “I’ll just tell them I’m taking some time.”

 

“Bucky’s fine,” Peggy said.  “I can handle him, at least for a couple of days.  If you need to go, you can go.”

 

He looked at her, glancing covertly at Sharon.  “Seems like maybe I should be here on Tuesday,” he said.

 

“It’s an office procedure these days,” Peggy said.  “I don’t need you to take me.”

 

“You don’t need him to take you to what?” Sharon asked carefully.

 

“Just a ... _thing_ ,” Steve said awkwardly.

 

“I’m having myself sterilized,” Peggy said, looking at Sharon.

 

Sharon’s brow furrowed and she looked truly shocked.  “So you two aren’t going to have kids?”

 

“We have a kid,” Steve and Peggy said in unison.  They looked at each other.  Peggy rolled her eyes.

 

“No,” Peggy said.  “We’re not having more children.  We’re both quite happy with the one we have.”

 

Sharon looked at them, but said nothing.  She stood up, holding her phone.  “I gotta - “ she said, pointing to the terrace.  She walked across the room, dialing and then out onto the terrace.

 

Steve looked at her, frowning.  “Who does she call?” he asked.

 

“Sam,” Peggy replied.  She met his gaze.  “He’s a trauma counselor, Steve.  I don’t think it’s a romantic connection.  She needs someone to talk to and Sam is good at listening.”

 

“You know this?” Steve asked.

 

“Have you ever seen her on the phone when Sam’s here?” she asked.

 

Steve sighed, obviously unhappy with the idea that simply being a part of this family was a traumatic experience.  

 

 

* * *

 

 

It was a while before Sharon ventured back inside.  By the time she did, Steve and Bucky were watching baseball again.  Peggy couldn’t tell if they actually enjoyed it, or if they just didn’t know what else to do with themselves.  Being stuck in the apartment was going to drive them all nuts sooner, rather than later.   

 

When Sharon walked in, Peggy held up the folder of pictures to her and then walked into the office.  Sharon followed.  “Do you want copies of these before I frame them?” Peggy asked Sharon.

 

Sharon just frowned at her.

 

“They’re your family,” Peggy said quietly.  “Your grandparents.”

 

Sharon dragged a hand through her hair, eyes squinched together the same way Steve did sometimes when he was trying to wrap his head around something.  She finally sighed and looked up.  “I don’t know,” she said.

 

Peggy nodded, feeling like she understood, at least a little bit.  It had to be overwhelming.  “I’ll make copies,” Peggy said.  “If you want them, you can have them.  If you don’t, I’ll hang on to them.”

 

“Yeah, fine,” Sharon said.  She walked to the window and looked out.  The office had the same view as the terrace, overlooking the river.

 

“You mentioned an office procedure,” Sharon said quietly.  “For sterilization.”

 

“Yeah,” Peggy said.  “It’s what the doctor recommended when I spoke with her.”

 

“The coils?” Sharon asked, turning to look at Peggy.

 

Peggy nodded.  “Seemed like the easiest route.  Least invasive, fastest recovery.”

 

Sharon shook her head.  “They won’t work,” she said quietly.  “They rely on scar tissue in the fallopian tubes.  The downside of nothing leaving a scar is that ... nothing leaves a scar.”

 

Peggy frowned.  “Dammit.”

 

“You should have him do it,” Sharon said.  “It would be easiest.”

 

Peggy sighed, leaning back against the bookcase.  She looked over at Sharon.  “How do you know it won’t work?”

 

Sharon arched an eyebrow.  “How do you think I know?” she asked.

 

Peggy frowned.  She knew that Sharon had relationships over the years, though none of them had ever resulted in marriage or children.  Peggy hadn’t contemplated the fact that Sharon didn’t want children and might have taken permanent measures to ensure it didn’t happen.  Peggy suspected this wasn’t the right time to start asking questions about her personal life.  Especially if her own relationship with Sharon had been a deciding factor in the decision not to have a family.

 

Sharon sighed and walked over to the sofa lining the wall opposite the desk.  She sat down.  “What was it like for you?” she asked, looking at Peggy, her expression almost defiant.  “After he went missing?”

 

Peggy pursed her lips together. She knew that this was a test.  Just like Steve and that damn grenade.  Could she do it?  Could she finally own up and answer Sharon's question?  Peggy honestly didn’t know, but she would try.

 

“I wanted to die,” she said.  “I wished it had been me, instead of him.  I felt like it was my fault for not finding him a safe place to land.”

 

Sharon just looked at her.  “So what happened?  How did you go from wanting to die to running SHIELD?”

 

Peggy took a deep breath.  There were a thousand different answers to that question.  But there was one that stood out above the others, “You.”

 

Sharon blinked at her.  “What?”

 

“You,” Peggy said.  “For the longest time, I thought if I could just ...fix ... the world.  That I could make it safe enough for you to be with me.  I could bring you home.  Daniel pursued me for years and I kept putting him off.  Because I always thought in the back of my mind that I would bring you home.”  She shook her head.  “But things never got better.  They got worse.”

 

Peggy crossed her arms over her chest, sitting down on the corner of the desk.  “I was so lost after Steve disappeared.  When I realized that I was pregnant, I had no idea what to do.  I was terrified.  And embarrassed.”  She smiled tightly.  “But it was the only joy in my life.  Phillips shipped me off to California, hiding me from the Allied scientists who wanted to recreate the serum.”

 

Crossing her arms over her chest, Sharon looked at Peggy, her brow furrowed.  “I was born in California?”

 

Peggy nodded.  “Yes,” she said carefully.  “I didn’t realize you didn’t know that.”

 

Sharon shook her head.  “I knew I was American, but that’s all I knew.”

 

“You were born in California.  By the ocean.  On a Saturday,” Peggy said.  She sighed.  “I was so sick.  Hyperemesis gravidarum was the official diagnosis, though I suspect Zola’s experimentation was really to blame.  I was twenty pounds lighter when I had you than I was when I got pregnant.  The doctors had advised me to terminate ... but I told them to go fuck themselves.  I was on bed rest for four months.  I was so weak.  I was in labor for three days.”  She shrugged.  “But you were born perfect.”

 

Shaking her head, Sharon asked, “How was none of this documented?  I looked for records everywhere.”

 

“Howard,” Peggy said.  “He was good at keeping secrets, hiding things, paying people off.  He made everything disappear.  He was the only one who was there after you were born.  He held you.  I didn't even hold you, but he did.”

 

Sharon flinched, lips pursed together.  She took a deep breath and looked at Peggy.  She started to say something and stopped.  She regrouped.  “Why didn’t you hold me?”

 

Peggy stared at her daughter for a long time.  “I have never wanted anything as desperately in my life as I wanted you,” she said quietly.  “And I knew that if I held you, I could never let you go.”

 

Sharon’s chin wobbled and she looked away, out the window.  She turned back to Peggy.  “You should have kept me,” she said flatly.  “You should have.”

 

Peggy blinked quickly, looking up at the ceiling, aware of the tears on her cheeks.  “I can’t do it over again,” she said quietly.  “I wish I could, but I can’t.  If I could, I would make different choices.  But believe me when I say that in that moment, with the information I had, I made the best choice I could for you.  Even though it killed me.”

 

Sharon shook her head, laughing mirthlessly, not looking at Peggy.  “I always wondered what I did wrong.  What was wrong with me to make my mother give me away.”  She frowned, biting down on her bottom lip.  “I went through every possible scenario.  I thought maybe you were too young.  Too poor.  I thought maybe you’d been raped.”  She rubbed her forehead.  “And then I found out none of that was the case.  You just didn’t want me.”

 

“The things they would have done to you, Sharon,” Peggy said, her voice a ragged whisper, begging Sharon to understand. “I couldn’t take that chance.  I couldn’t.  I couldn’t save Steve.  I couldn’t save Bucky.  I couldn’t lose you too because of my failure.”  

 

She looked at Sharon through tears.  Sharon still wouldn’t look at her.  She threw up her hands, laughing mirthlessly.  “And I lost you anyway.  And I made you doubt yourself so profoundly.  When all I wanted was to keep you safe.”

 

Sharon frowned, looking down, like she couldn’t bear to look at Peggy.  “When I met you, later, in London.  And after London, in New York.  You brought me with you and I thought I finally had a chance to be with my mother.  But you completely shut me out.”

 

“I know,” Peggy said.  “And I'm sorry.  I don’t have any excuse that makes any sense to a rational person.  I loved you more than anything.  And I hurt you so much because I told myself that keeping you ignorant would keep you safe.”

 

Sharon blinked quickly, shaking her head.  “I just wanted to know who I was,” she said.  “That’s all I ever wanted.”

 

Peggy took a deep breath.  “I was a coward,” she said.  “I couldn’t talk about Steve at that point.  Not even for you.  But I’m trying now.” She paused, taking a breath.  “I know it’s too little, too late.  But it’s all I have.  And it’s yours if you want it.”

 

Sharon looked up at her, cheeks wet with tears.  She was upset, angry, confused.  “I don’t know what to do,” she said, her voice a near whisper.  “I have been burned _so many times_ by you.  Every bit of self-preservation I have says not to trust you.”

 

Peggy nodded miserably.

 

Sharon stood up, taking a deep breath.  “Thank you,” she said, clearly forcing herself to say the words, “for the pictures and history.  I appreciate it.  But I need to go.”

 

“Please,” Peggy said, “let Steve see you home.”

 

Sharon rolled her eyes.  “I’m a grown up, Margaret.”

 

“Please,” Peggy said softly.  “ _Please_.”

 

Steve knew something was very wrong as soon as Peggy walked out of the office.  He was immediately on his feet by her side.  Peggy told him to take Sharon back to her place and he nodded, doing as she asked without question.

 

After they left, Peggy stood in the middle of kitchen, feeling gutted, hollow.

 

“C’mere, Peg,” Bucky called from the sofa.

 

Peggy walked over to him, feeling more miserable than she could ever remember feeling.  He took her hand and pulled her down onto the couch with him, tucking her against his side.  She rested her head against his chest and sobbed until she couldn’t breathe.

 

* * *

 

 

Peggy was only dimly aware of Steve lifting her off the couch and carrying her back to the bed.  She was so cold.  He stripped them both down and curled under the covers with her, reminding her so intensely of that horrible night in the tent.  Like that night, it felt like the only thing tying her to the mortal coil was him, the vital heat of him.

 

END CHAPTER

  
  



	24. Memory Lane

Peggy slept fitfully and woke up feeling more tired than she had last night.  She sat up, putting her feet on the floor, cradling her head in her hands.  Her head and eyes ached.  Her chest ached.  Her heart ached.  Steve reached out, splaying his hand against her bare back.  The warmth of him was a shock to her skin.  She felt so cold.

 

“What happened last night?” he asked.

 

Peggy shook her head.  “Did Sharon say anything?”

 

“Not much,” Steve admitted.  “But she was really upset.  I was afraid to leave her alone.  And then I came back and found you passed out on Bucky.”

 

“I’ll apologize to him later,” she said.

 

“I don’t think he minded,” Steve said.  “He was worried about you.”

 

Peggy groaned, shaking her head. “It’s no more than I deserve,” she said.  “Sharon has a lifetime of anger stored up and until now, I’ve always shut her down.  If we’re ever going to get past this, we have to do this.”

 

Steve was quiet and Peggy knew he was upset because she and Sharon were upset.  “What can I do?” he asked.

 

“Be there,” she said.  “For Sharon.  She’s never had a parent there for her before and she’s going to need you, whether she realizes it or not.”

  
  


* * *

 

 

Steve had to go into the office, though he made her promise to call him if she needed anything.  Then he made Bucky promise too.  They both agree.

 

As soon as Steve was gone, Peggy looked at Bucky.  “You want to get out of here for a while?”

 

“ _Fuck.  Yes._ ”

 

* * *

 

“Fucking Coney Island, Peg?”  Bucky swore, pulling the baseball cap down farther and adjusting the sunglasses.  

  
  
“Would you rather be back at the apartment?” Peggy asked.  

 

He frowned.

 

“Then shut up,” she said.  They walked along the beach.  They’d both taken off their shoes.  Judging from the pallid color of Bucky’s feet, they hadn’t seen the sun in decades.  Bucky studied the view.  Peggy wondered how much it had changed since he last saw it.  She wondered if anything was recognizable at all.

 

He looked over at her.  “Gimme your phone.”

 

“For what?”

 

“So I can call contact my Hydra handlers,” he said sourly.  “What do you think I want it for?  I want to call someone.  Hand it over.”

 

Reluctantly, she handed him the phone.

 

He tapped away at it forever.  She wasn’t sure if he was actually doing something that intricate, or if he just had no idea how to use the technology.  Probably a little of both.

 

Several minutes later, the phone rang and he answered it, stepping several paces away to speak without her overhearing.  She was taking a leap, trusting him.  She just hoped she didn’t regret it.  She waded into the water up to her ankles, watching it swirl around her feet.

 

He finally walked over to her, handing the phone back.  She stuck it in her pocket.  They found a bench and sat down in the shade, just watching.  It was boring, but at least it wasn’t the apartment.

 

“Steve and I used to come here whenever we could scrape together enough money, which wasn’t often,” Bucky said.  “He always got sick on the rides, but he rode ‘em anyway.”

 

“You remember all that?” Peggy asked.

 

“Yeah,” he said, nodding.  “I remember.  It’s not until after we landed on that Hydra train that things get real spotty.”

 

“How much do you remember?” Peggy asked.  “From - “

 

“Being an assassin?” he asked.  He shrugged.  “Bits and pieces.  They always wiped me after a job.”  He sighed.  “I don’t remember Stark or his wife, if that’s what you’re asking.”

 

“I don’t suppose it would make any difference, even if you did,” Peggy said.

 

“Probably not,” Bucky said.

 

Eventually, they made their way back to the car.  When they got there, Sharon was sitting on the trunk. Peggy frowned.

 

“He texted,” Sharon said.

 

Peggy pulled out her phone and looked at the logs.  There was a text to Sharon, sent about forty-five minutes earlier.   _It’s Uncle Jimmy, brat.  Call me_

 

Peggy frowned at him.  She knew this was his way of trying to make peace, presumably by poking and harassing them both until they relented.  She wasn’t sure if it was more or less annoying than Steve’s unshakeable patience and understanding.

 

“You girls hungry?” Bucky asked.

 

“Sure,” Sharon said.

 

They all got in Peggy’s car and Bucky directed them to a restaurant.  They only had to double back a few times.  To all their shocks, the restaurant was still there, and still a restaurant.  Though Peggy doubted it had been a Thai place in the forties.  Bucky frowned, but Peggy took one of his elbows and Sharon took the other, steering him inside.

 

“You know Steve’s going to lose his shit when he finds out we’re all out without him,” Bucky said around a bite of red curry.  

 

“He’ll be fine,” Peggy said dismissively.

 

Sharon and Bucky both looked at her.

 

“What?” she asked, rolling her eyes.  “You all think he’s so damn tender,” she said.  “He’s not.  He is an actual grownup who can deal with grownup things.”

 

“We hit a nerve, Peg?” Bucky asked, taking another bite.  As it turned out, he could put away as much food as Steve.  It was impressive.

 

She shook her head.  “It’s just ... seriously, I think all of his damn teammates thinks he just ... doesn’t know any better.  Like he’s some precious little lamb who has no idea how the big bad world works.  What the hell do they think it was like being a poor scrawny kid growing up in Brooklyn in the great depression?”

 

“God, that did suck,” Bucky said seriously.  He sighed.  “ _But_ ... he has always been kinda square.”

 

“Yes,” Peggy conceded sharply.  “But _by choice_.”  She shook her head.  “It isn’t that he’s not capable of being as petty and self-serving as the rest of them.  He _chooses_ to be a better man.  Because he doesn’t like bullies.  Because he knows what it’s like to be truly helpless.  He chooses not to exploit weakness in others.  They think he’s naive or sheltered, rather than that he’s owning his choice.  And I hate that it gets turned into a joke, like he’s too innocent for all of it.”

 

“Guess you’ve been thinking about this for a while,” Bucky said.

 

Peggy glowered at him.

 

Bucky sighed.  “Well, I suppose you’re better positioned to comment on his innocence, or lack thereof, than anybody else.”  He arched an eyebrow at her.

 

“Pig,” Peggy said, frowning.

 

* * *

 

 

They walked along the streets of Steve and Bucky’s old neighborhood.  Occasionally Bucky would point out a familiar landmark.  But so much of it had changed.

 

Bucky pulled the hat down farther, shoved his hands in his pockets.  “So what was it like for you, Peg?” he asked.  “After the war?”

 

She laughed mirthlessly.  “You want to narrow it down?  It’s been seventy years since the war.”

 

“The SSR,” he said.  “Didn’t you end up running it?”

 

“SHIELD,” Peggy said.  “Not the SSR.  I was with the SSR for three years before they appointed me to run their new division.”

 

“Three years doing what?” Bucky asked.

 

“Officially, I was fetching files and coffee,” she said bitterly.  “Unofficially, I was running my own investigations under the noses of a bunch of men who refused to acknowledge my worth.”

 

Bucky made a derisive noise.  “What was wrong with them?  They have a bug up their asses about girls in the boys’ club?”

 

“Pretty much,” Peggy admitted.  “The ... publicity surrounding Steve and his disappearance certainly didn’t help.”

 

“Publicity?” Sharon asked, frowning.

 

Peggy sighed.  “God, there were radio dramas, starring Captain America and his swooning damsel in distress, Betty Carver.”

 

Bucky stopped walking and looked at her.  “You’re kidding.”

 

She shook her head.  “I’m not.  I'm sure you can find the archives online if you're curious.  My co-workers would listen to that drivel and then come to work the next day and be presented with me.  Everyone knew who I was.  It didn’t matter that I’d been part of the SSR since its inception, that I’d been instrumental in the war.  All they knew was that I was Cap’s girl, his _liaison_.”

 

“What a buncha jerks,” Bucky swore.

 

“Indeed,” Peggy said.  “You have no idea how many times they remarked on my insubordination with the witty rejoinder that I couldn’t take orders from them because I was used to serving _under_ a Captain.”

 

Bucky just looked at her. “You shank any of ‘em?”

 

“No,” she admitted.  “But it was  a tempting thought.  I settled for simply being twice as good at the job as any of them.”

 

They continued walked.  

 

“Though ... “ Bucky started.  “They did kinda have a point about you bein’ under him.”

 

“If I kill you, nobody will miss you,” Peggy said darkly.

 

“Steve will,” Bucky replied.

 

“He’ll get over it,” she said.  “He has before.”

 

END CHAPTER


	25. Grocery Bills and Doctors' Offices, the Neverending Glamour of Being a Superhero

“Where were you guys?” Steve asked as Peggy, Bucky and Sharon entered the apartment.  It was past eight in the evening, but Peggy figured Steve had only just arrived.  His face still looked windburned from the bike.

 

“I told ya,” Bucky said to Peggy, taking off the hat.  He looked at Steve.  “I told her you were gonna lose your shit.”

 

Steve frowned, obviously taking offense at the idea he had ‘lost his shit’.  

 

“We took a field trip,” Peggy said.  “To Brooklyn.”  She sighed.  “We had to get out, at least for a day.”

 

“We went to Coney Island,” Bucky said.  “And out to lunch.  Peggy gave a very touching speech over Thai food about how you’re not just a giant square.  But rather you make a conscious decision about how to conduct yourself.  It was beautiful.”  He patted Steve on the shoulder.  “I almost cried.”

 

Peggy glared at him. “No one would miss you.”

 

Steve ignored the bickering and reached out, pulling Peggy to his side, pressing a kiss to her temple.  

 

She looked up at him.  “You could have called if you were worried.”

 

He frowned.  “Tony’s been keepin’ tabs on my phone lately.  I’m trying not to use it too much.”

 

Peggy nodded and pulled away from Steve, walking into the apartment and setting down her bag.  She noticed Steve go to Sharon and give her a hug.  She spoke to him briefly and then headed for the door.

 

Their afternoon together had been civil, though Bucky was quite a distraction.  He simply never stopped talking.  Peggy wondered if he was trying to make up for lost time.  Or if he was just afraid to be alone with his thoughts in silence.  Either way, there hadn’t been a lot of opportunity for her and Sharon to interact directly.

 

Bucky was definitely improving quickly, but the day out had wiped him out.  He planted himself on the couch and promptly passed out.  Peggy ordered food and she and Steve ate at the island.

 

“How was work?” she asked.  “You leaving tomorrow?”

 

“Surprisingly, no,” he said.  “We’re all sticking close.  Thor’s supposed to be in town on, wait for it, Thursday.”

 

Peggy shook her head, wincing at the pun.  “What’s the occasion?”

 

“Hydra,” Steve said.  “We have some leads that hopefully can point us in the direction of Loki’s scepter.”  He drummed his fingers on the counter.  “And, apparently, a party.”

 

“A party?” she asked, eyebrow arched.

 

“Fourth of July,” Steve said.  “Tony’s hosting at the tower.”

 

“He does know that’s your birthday, right?” she asked, taking a bite of salad, watching him.

 

“Unfortunately, yes,” Steve said.  “My birthday was mentioned.”

 

“Aww,” Peggy cooed, “your Avenger friends are having a party for you.  That’s so cute.”

 

Steve rolled his eyes, but also blushed.  “It’s not _for_ me,” he said.  “It just also happens to be my birthday.”

 

“You should take Sharon,” Peggy said.

 

Steve looked at her.  “You don’t want to go?”

 

She nodded toward the couch.  “Someone’s gotta watch the kid.”

 

Steve frowned.  They couldn’t very well take Bucky with them.  “He’ll be alright for an evening.”

 

“On the fourth of July,” Peggy said, incredulously.  “You do know there’s fireworks and all sorts of other PTSD triggers for the trained assassin we have sleeping on our couch.”

 

Steve looked at her.  “ _Our_ couch?”

 

Peggy blinked at him.  “Are you going to try and pretend you’re not living here?”

 

He shrugged.  “I suppose not.  Though I think we need to have a discussion about the food in _our_ pantry.”

 

“What food?” she asked.  “You and Bucky eat everything that’s not nailed down.”

 

“That’s my point,” he said, frowning.

 

“No wonder you can barely afford a place in Brooklyn,” she said.  “How much is your grocery bill?”

 

“A lot,” he said wryly.  “I used to spend more time at the office.  I’d eat there.”  He shook his head.  “Now that’s not really an option.”

 

“I’ll buy you more food,” she said, sighing dramatically.  “Just this once.  I’m not your housekeeper.”

 

“Thank you,” he replied, leaning over and kissing her on the cheek.

 

“You guys are makin’ me wanna barf,” Bucky yelled from the couch.

 

“Shut up!” Peggy and Steve yelled in unison.

 

"Get some more of those protein bars," Bucky said, "the ones with the chocolate chips."

 

"I hate you both," Peggy muttered.

 

* * *

 

“So you already know that what your doctor recommended isn’t going to work, but you’re going anyway,” Steve said, looking at Peggy the next morning.

 

“I’m going to go _talk_ to her,” Peggy said.  “To see if there are other options.  It doesn’t mean you can’t find out about getting yourself snipped on your own time.”

 

Steve made a face and Peggy knew that despite his irritation with her, he wasn’t thrilled at the idea of a vasectomy.  Though she would love to be a fly on the wall for that conversation with his doctor.  She wondered who his doctor was.  Knowing Tony some incredibly attractive genius who probably scared Steve half to death.  Peggy had made quite the argument to Bucky and Sharon for Steve being a grown up, but she knew he’d be squirming his way through that conversation, like the thirteen year old altar boy he had once been.

 

* * *

 

Peggy sat in the waiting room.  The office was impeccably styled and boasted some of the most successful doctors in the city, and the country.  She was sitting there, scrolling through her phone when something caught her eye.  She looked up and saw Pepper Potts.  Pepper was impeccably composed as always, but Peggy got the distinct impression she didn’t want to be sitting in the waiting room where she could be recognized.  It also seemed to Peggy that Pepper wasn’t here for a routine visit.

 

Peggy’s doctor was running behind schedule, so she was in the waiting room long enough to see Pepper called back by the nurse for one of the doctors whose speciality was obstetrics.

 

* * *

 

“I think Pepper’s pregnant.”

 

Steve looked up from where he and Bucky were watching the game.  “Huh?”

 

“I saw her in the doctor’s office this morning,” Peggy said.  “She was seeing one of the obstetricians.”

 

Steve frowned and then shrugged.  “Tony hasn’t said anything.”

 

“Maybe Tony doesn’t know,” Peggy said.

 

Bucky patted Steve on the shoulder.  “Wouldn’t be the first time a guy didn’t know.”

 

Steve scowled at him.  “I don’t think she’d keep something like that from him,” he said.  “I haven’t seen either of them much lately.  They’ve been doing a lot of charity work together.”

 

Peggy shrugged.  “So maybe he does know and they’re just not ready to tell anyone.”

 

“Did Pepper recognize you?” Steve asked.

 

Peggy shook her head.  “Not as far as I know.  I’ve never actually met her in person, so unless she got incredibly bored and went through Howard’s old files, I don’t think there would be any reason for her to know who I am.  She probably knows my name, but I doubt she could recognize me on sight.”

 

Steve’s brow was furrowed as he looked back at the game on the TV.  Peggy headed into the bedroom and changed into sweats and a t-shirt.  From the pile of dirty clothes on the closet floor, Peggy assumed that Bucky and Steve must have been working out, probably running stairs, if their last conversation about it was anything to go by.

 

She walked back into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water.  Steve walked over to where she was and took the glass from her, drinking half of it before handing it back.  She frowned at him, but he was completely unrepentant.

 

“If you get thirsty,” she said patiently, “we have these things called taps and in these cabinets there are other things called glasses.”

 

He just frowned at her. Something was on his mind.  He leaned back against the counter, watching her.

 

“What kind of father was Howard?” Steve asked.

 

Peggy snorted before she could stop herself.  “Abysmal, from all accounts,” she said.  She sighed.  “He loved Tony, I’m certain. But Howard had no idea what to do with a child, much less a son and heir and all the baggage that entails for a man like Howard.  Maria wanted a child and Howard humored her.  Howard was older than Tony is now when Tony was born.”

 

Steve’s brow furrowed.  She looked at him.  “What’s wrong?” she asked gently.

 

He looked at her and shook his head.  “Nothing,” he said.  “It’s just ... odd timing, I guess.”

 

“That you and Tony are both new fathers?” she asked.  “Or new father and soon to be new father.”

 

He frowned at her.  “I’m not exactly new.”

 

She canted her head to the side, looking at him.  “She may not be a newborn, but you are a new father.”

 

He shoved his hands in his pockets.

 

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

 

He shook his head. “Nothing’s _wrong_ ,” he said.  “It’s just - “

 

“You wonder if you’re a good dad?” she asked.

 

He nodded, lips pursed together.

 

“Sharon cares about you a lot,” she said.  “You have a lot of ground to make up, but so far, I’d say you’re doing a pretty good job.”  She paused and looked at him seriously.  “But learn from my mistakes, if you’re worried about it, talk to her.  Sooner, rather than later.”

 

He nodded.

 

"So," he ventured quietly, "how did the appointment this morning go?"

 

It was Peggy's turn to frown.  "She said that judging from my preliminary blood work, that it was highly unlikely I could have a child, though, I've heard that one before," she said wryly.  "She also said that a surgical procedure would be my only permanent option.  It could be done laproscopically, but it's still surgery."

 

"That's ... disappointing," he said carefully.

 

"Indeed," she replied.  She crossed her arms over her chest.  "We don't have to decide today, but we can't put it off forever either."

 

* * *

 

Peggy went to bed before Steve and was reading when he finally joined her.  She watched as he removed his clothes, all of them, and joined her in bed.  He lay down next to her, looking at her as she still held her book.  

 

“A bit presumptuous, don’t you think?” she asked.

 

He smiled tightly and shook his head.  “Not really.  You’re pretty much a sure thing.”

 

She punched him in the shoulder and he did her the favor of pretending it hurt before pulling her close and kissing her.  The lure of pretending to be irritated with him quickly waned and she kissed him back, pulling off her own clothes and tossing them away.

 

They were quiet, mindful of the fact that while Bucky never said anything, his hearing was as good as Steve’s.  She hoped he was still watching TV, but she wasn’t worried enough about it to stop.

 

They made love slowly, thoroughly.  They were both covered in a sheen of sweat by the time they finished, both breathing hard, staring up at the ceiling, sated.  After a couple of minutes, he rolled toward her, wrapping an arm around her waist, his head on her pillow as he passed out.  She looked over at him.  He was dead to the world.  Usually he was such a light sleeper that the slightest noise would wake him in an instant.  But occasionally, she had tired him out like this.  She knew from experience that a bomb could go off in the room and he’d sleep through it.

 

She pressed a kiss to his forehead and reached over, turning off the lamp.

 

* * *

 

Peggy slept late and by the time she showered and made her way to the kitchen, she found Steve and Sharon sitting there, drinking coffee.  Mostly to make a point, she took Steve’s mug without asking and took a drink.  She immediately regretted.  “Good lord,” she cursed, handing it back.  “You could stand a spoon up in that.”

 

He shrugged.  “I can drink ten weak cups or one strong one.”

 

She shook her head, still frowning and poured herself a glass of water, downing it quickly.  She looked into the living room and saw Bucky doing push ups on her Turkish carpet.  She told herself it was preferable to Bucky going stir crazy and killing the neighbors.  Barely.

 

“Sharon’s going to go to the party on Friday,” Steve said.

 

Peggy looked at Sharon and she nodded.  “Should be interesting,” Sharon said.  She looked at Steve.  “They’re going to think I’m your date.”

 

He looked back at her.  “You are my date.”

 

Sharon shook her head, frowning at him.  “You know what I mean.”

 

His expression was sour.  “It’s none of their damn business.”  He looked at Peggy, frowning.  “Are you sure you can’t come?”

 

Peggy shrugged.  She knew it was Steve’s birthday and the only thing he had asked for was to spend it together, however, she wasn’t sure that meant together with the rest of the team.  And she just couldn’t leave Bucky alone in good conscience.  “I called in a favor for a potential sitter, but I probably won’t know until Friday if she’s available.”

 

“She?” Bucky called from the living room.

 

“Don’t even think about it,” Peggy replied.  “She’d have you for breakfast.  And not in any way you'd enjoy.”

 

Peggy grabbed her checkbook and went into the office.  She found it both amusing and depressing that she was sleeping with a superhero and she still had to balance the damn checkbook.  Mostly because he and Bucky were threatening to eat her out of house and home.

 

She’d been in there for at least a quarter of an hour when she looked up to find Sharon standing in the doorway.  She could hear Steve and Bucky talking in the living room, arguing about some asinine sporting event that happened three quarters of a century earlier.

 

“Hi,” Peggy said in what she hoped was a welcoming tone.

 

“Hi,” Sharon replied, more guarded.  She stepped into the office and took a seat on the couch.  

 

Peggy looked around, searching for something to say.  “I’m glad you’re able to go to the party with Steve,” she said.  “I think he’ll be happy for the company.”

 

Sharon nodded.  “We’ll see,” she said.  “I’m pretty sure it’s going to cause more problems than it solves, but I suppose that’s inevitable.”

 

Peggy inclined her head.  She had a point.  Silence hung in the air for several long moments.

 

“I want to be clear,” Peggy finally said, “that I fully support your relationship with Steve.  Regardless of how things are between you and I, I don’t want to do anything to stand in the way of your relationship with your father.”

 

Sharon nodded.  “I think we should call a truce,” she said.

 

Peggy just stared at her, shocked, but hopeful.  “A truce?”

 

“I feel like you want me to rage at you,” Sharon said wearily.  “Truthfully, I’m too fucking exhausted.  It’s hard to hold onto that much hate.  And I’ve learned the hard way that hurting you doesn’t make me feel any better.”

 

She sighed, shaking her head.  “In spite of my vivid revenge fantasies, hurting you makes me feel worse.  Seeing you in pain wounds me.  Because, even though I hate myself for it, I love you in spite of everything.”

 

Peggy’s eyes pricked with tears, but she held her tongue.

 

Sharon took a deep breath.  “But I don’t forgive you,” she said firmly.  “I don’t know that I ever can forgive you.  I understand there were lots of extenuating circumstances, but you keeping a box of mementos doesn’t make up for my spectacularly shitty childhood.  Real damage was done, Margaret.  Some that won’t ever heal.  Because you didn’t want to be a mom.”

 

Peggy took a deep breath, crushed, but not shocked.  It was no more than she’d told herself for the last seventy years.  But hearing it from Sharon wounded her anew.

 

Sharon dragged a hand through her hair.  “I love Steve.  And he loves you.  You’re part of the package.  I get that.  We’re stuck in this together and I’m sick of fighting.  So I’ll play nice.  But don’t expect miracles.”

 

“That’s probably more than I deserve,” Peggy said quietly.

 

“It is,” Sharon replied firmly.  “It is more than you deserve.  But it’s not more than Steve deserves.  You should thank him.”

 

“Duly noted,” Peggy said with a tight smile.

 

Sharon stood and started to leave.  She stopped at the door.  “I’m out of town for the next couple of days,” she said.  “So I guess maybe I’ll see you at the party.”

 

“Perhaps,” Peggy said.  As Sharon started to walk away, she added, “Be safe.”

 

Sharon turned and looked at her for a long moment and then nodded and left.

 

END CHAPTER


	26. Steve's Birthday, Pt. 1

Peggy stretched and curled up against Steve.  Without opening his eyes, he reflexively pulled her close, sighing.

 

“Happy birthday,” she said, kissing his shoulder.  God, she loved his shoulders.

 

He made a contented sound, running his hands down her back, over her bottom.  They both had their favorite parts, apparently.  She levered herself up, leaning over him and kissed him, playfully.

 

He finally did her the favor of opening his eyes and looking at her.  He smiled up at her and then threaded his fingers through her hair, pulling her down for a long kiss.  She did marvel at it - in those rare moments when she wasn’t so caught up in the act that she could think straight - at the fact that they fit together so well, complemented each other so perfectly.  Their physical chemistry was astounding.  And emotionally ... emotionally it wasn’t even a matter of chemistry.  It just was.  She loved him.  She couldn’t help loving him.  She’d spent decades of her life trying to forget him, all to no avail.  There simply was no other lover who could compare.  

 

Peggy understood, on some level, that Steve’s superiority was probably due to the fact that she wouldn’t allow herself to be as open with anyone else as she was with Steve.  But it didn’t matter.  That’s just how things were.  He was it.  He’d always been it.  She was never going to find this with anyone else.

 

She pushed herself up and straddled him.  He sighed contentedly, running his hands down her back, pushing up against her.  He was hard, of course.  His physical stamina was the stuff of legend.  She truly had no idea how he’d managed to live chastely as long as he had.  In her more morbid moments, she wondered if he’d be able to live like that again, should their situation change.  Not that she intended to find out.  It was his birthday and she understood that, as his partner, it was her duty to service him today and she took that duty very seriously.  

 

Not that it was a chore.

 

She pushed herself up into a sitting position and his hands immediately cupped her breasts.  Speaking of favorite parts ...  She smiled down at him.  He had a look of concentration on his features that seemed oddly out of place, but she had to remind herself that this kind of intimacy was still somewhat new to him.  He didn’t appear to be taking anything for granted.

 

She looked down at him.  “What do you want?”

 

He nudged up against her.  “You.”

 

She smiled and leaned forward, whispering in his ear.  “It’s your birthday,” she said quietly. “You can have whatever you want.  What can I do for you?  Is there anything you want to try?”  

 

He was still and she could hear how fast his breathing had become.  She bit down on her bottom lip, wondering if it was too much, but she decided to be wicked.  “You can put it anywhere you want.”

 

“ _Peggy_ ,” he said, scandalized.

 

She smiled, pressing a hard kiss to his jaw, having expected that reaction.  She pushed herself up and looked down at him, her hair falling around both of them.  “Nothing?” she asked.  “There’s nothing you want to try?”

 

He was blushing, but clearly trying to fight through it.  “What about you?” he asked.  “What haven’t you tried?”

 

She looked down at him, dragging a hand through her hair, pulling it back out of her face, trying vainly to come up with some distraction.  “There really isn’t anything I haven’t tried,” she said carefully.  And then quickly amended, “Barring fetishes.  Those can get pretty far afield pretty quickly.  I stayed out of those.  Mostly.”

 

She thought he might be upset, but he just looked up at her curiously.  He sat up, forcing her to sit back in his lap so they were face to face, him holding her.  “Really?” he asked.  “There’s nothing you haven’t tried?”

 

She looked at him and realized there was.  “I’ve never loved someone the way I love you,” she said seriously.  Then she added, “Trust games could get pretty interesting.”

 

His brow furrowed.  “Trust games?”

 

“Safe words,” she said, arching an eyebrow.

 

He frowned.  “I’m never going to get excited at the idea of hurting you.”

 

She smiled at him.  “Darling, who said I was the one who was going to get hurt?”

 

His frown deepened, which she took as a _no_.  Not that she was shocked, or even disappointed.  She also had no desire to hurt him.  Unless, of course, he decided he wanted her to.

 

“So that’s a trust game?” he asked skeptically.  “Hurting one another?”

 

She shook her head.  “No,” she said, “it’s being completely vulnerable and trusting the other person to _not_ hurt you.  Or at least, no more than you both enjoy.”

 

He was quiet for a moment and she could almost hear him thinking.  He finally said, “How’s that any different from what we do every day?”

 

She had to admit, he had a point.  “Well, for one,” she said, “the outfits are a lot more complicated.  Lots of buckles and zippers.”  
  


“Outfits,” he said quietly, “that could be .. interesting.”

 

“You’d make a fantastic Batman,” she said, probably too quickly.

 

He closed his eyes, shaking his head.  “I wasn’t thinking about _me_ in the outfit.  I wear enough interesting outfits in the course of a normal day.  With buckles and zippers.”

 

“ _Oh_ ,” she said, playing along, knowing full well he wasn’t going to be playing dress up.  She wrapped her arms around his neck.  “So what kind of outfit?  Naughty nurse?  Naughty schoolgirl?”

 

He pursed his lips together and looked at her from beneath his lashes.  She could tell he was embarrassed and she didn’t want to do anything to discourage him.  “Honestly,” he said, “just the way you used to dress when we first met.”

 

She was unexpectedly touched and smiled softly.  “In a uniform?”

 

He shrugged.  “You were beautiful in your uniform,” he said, “but no, I was thinking more of that time you came to the club in that red dress.”

 

She smiled at him.  “You liked the red dress?”

 

“Don’t play dumb,” he said flatly.  “You know I liked the red dress.  You know every fella in that place liked the red dress.”

 

“I just wanted to make sure I had your attention,” she said softly.

 

“You had it,” he assured her. As if to make his point, he pulled on her hips, grinding against her.

 

She leaned forward and kissed him, her tongue tangling wetly with his.  His hands were everywhere, skimming over her back, squeezing her backside, cupping her breast.  “You want me to go change?” she asked.

 

“Not right now,” he said.  And then to illustrate his point, he flipped her over on her back, situating himself between her legs, kissing her again.  He grabbed a condom off the nightstand and quickly put it on, then slid inside her.  She groaned in pleasure, wrapping her legs around his waist.

 

“I thought I was supposed to be the one servicing you today,” she said, around a bite of his earlobe.

 

“Later,” he mumbled, his hips setting a steady rhythm.

 

She held him as he drove into her, her hands running down his back, over his shoulders, into his hair.  She was taken aback by the unreality of it all.  That he was so thoroughly hers.  For so many years she thought he was lost forever.  And now to have him back.  She hissed, arching her back, squeezing around him.

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” he groaned, burying his face in the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

 

“Come for me,” she said, running her nails against his scalp.

 

He shifted, pressing a hard kiss to her jaw as he redoubled his efforts.  Then he went still over her and finally let out a hissing breath, collapsing into her arms.  He lay there for a moment.  “You didn’t - “

 

“It’s not about me today,” she said softly, kissing him.  

 

* * *

 

Never one to shirk his duty, Steve joined Peggy in the shower several minutes later and made sure she found the same completion he’d found in bed.  She had to admit, she didn’t mind getting a present on his birthday.

 

They finally made their way out to the kitchen and Peggy was sure to start the coffee before Steve could get to it.  She sat there sipping coffee and reading the news on her tablet while Steve consumed a truly mind boggling amount of food.  Before long, they were joined by Bucky who, somehow, managed to eat even more than Steve.  They were going to need another grocery delivery soon.

 

Peggy remembered a woman she had worked with years ago, who had four teenage sons at home.  She walked in on the woman crying in the ladies room one day because it was all she could do to keep food in the house.  And money hadn’t been the issue.  It was just the logistics of people eating that much food.  At the time, Peggy had thought she was ridiculously overwrought, but staring at the pile of dishes, Peggy felt a certain amount of kinship.

 

There was a knock at the door and Peggy opened it, inviting Sharon inside.  She was carrying several bags.  Peggy watched as she threw one of the bags in the corner and set the other on the island.

 

“Can I help you?” Peggy asked.

 

Sharon looked at her and seemed hesitant.  “I brought a few things,” she said.  “I was going to make lunch.  Unless you guys already have plans.”

 

They didn’t, as far as Peggy knew.  She looked at Steve and he shook his head.  “No,” he said.  “No plans.”

 

Sharon frowned.  “I guess you guys just ate though.”

 

Peggy rolled her eyes.  “They’ll be hungry again in twenty minutes.”

 

“That’s true,” Bucky said absently.  He was sitting on the couch playing video games.  Peggy purchased several different video game consoles for him in the hopes he could entertain himself a little and leave Steve alone for more than five minutes at a time.  So far it was working reasonably well.  The only problem was that Steve liked the damn games too.

 

Under the guise of helping Bucky with something, Steve joined him on the couch and they started playing some ridiculous first person shooter game that had to resemble their jobs so much that she had no idea how it could possibly be enjoyable.  They didn’t seem to mind.

 

Sharon unpacked the groceries, setting them out on the island.

 

“You cook?” Peggy asked.

 

“I do,” Sharon said.  After a moment, she added, “I went to Le Cordon Bleu, in between intelligence agency jobs.”

 

“Oh,” Peggy said.  She’d had no idea.  “I, uh, can’t really cook.”

 

Sharon smiled tightly.  “I know,” she said.  “I did live with you for several months.”

 

Peggy frowned, but bit her tongue.  Daniel had liked to cook, so she saw no need to attempt something she neither enjoyed nor had any particular aptitude for.  She cleared her throat.  “Is there anything I can do to help?”

 

“Not right now,” Sharon said.

 

Peggy nodded and walked around, resuming her seat and picking up her tablet.  She watched covertly as Sharon made her way around the kitchen with ease.  She started by mixing up a cake and while it was in the oven, she set to work on lunch.  After a while, Peggy could tell it was pilaf and chicken breasts with pan sauce and sauteed vegetables.  

 

Peggy could manage a few tried and true recipes, though she tended toward the kind where you shopped up a bunch of ingredients and threw them in a pan with a bunch of spices.  Those tended to be very forgiving.  Certainly nothing so well executed had been cooked in this kitchen as long as Peggy had owned the apartment.

 

Sharon took the cake out of the oven and set it aside to cool and announced that lunch was ready.  Steve and Bucky appeared so quickly that Peggy had to laugh.

 

Sharon smiled at Steve and gave him a hug.  “Happy birthday.”

 

He returned the hug with a grin of his own.  

 

Bucky stepped around them and started piling food on his plate.  “Happy birthday, punk,” Bucky said.

 

* * *

 

 

After lunch, Steve and Bucky cleaned up the dishes while Sharon iced the cake.  “I didn’t get you ninety-six candles,” she said to Steve. “Sorry.”

 

“Coulda just lit the whole damn thing on fire,” Bucky said helpfully.

 

Peggy smacked him in the back of the head.  “It’s not Baked Alaska.”

 

Bucky rubbed his head, even though Peggy was certain it hadn’t actually hurt.  “What the hell is Baked Alaska?”

 

“Flambéed ice cream cake,” Sharon said.

 

Bucky frowned.  “Why would anyone do that?”

 

No one had an answer for that.  Sharon served slices of cake and pulled a wrapped present out of the bag she’d thrown in the corner.  Peggy went into the office and got her presents for Steve.

 

Steve was uncomfortable with all of the attention, but Peggy assured him he’d get used to it.  

 

He opened Sharon’s present first.  “This is only part of it,” she said.  “I’m still trying to find something for the other half.”  True to her word, Sharon got him a truly terrible tie and a bottle of cologne.  The cologne, thankfully, wasn’t nearly as bad as the tie, which had little tiny Captain America shields all over it and said ‘World’s Best Dad’.

 

Steve laughed and hugged Sharon and said, “I probably don’t want to know how much money Tony made off that.”

 

Peggy’s presents were next.  She set them in front of him and then stood at his side, leaning against the back of his chair as he opened them.  The first was a sketchbook and pencils, which he would definitely use.  

 

There were two more presents.  The first of them was the framed picture of his parents.  Steve touched it gingerly.  “I didn’t realize that any copies of this were still around,” he said quietly.

 

Peggy put her hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently.  He covered her hand with his, holding it there for a moment.

 

“Open the other one,” Peggy urged.  It was more pictures, a trio of them.  

 

The first picture was a black and white picture of Bucky and Steve from shortly after Steve had liberated the prisoners as Azzano.  Even knowing that each of them had aged very little physically since the picture was taken, it was still shocking how young they looked.

 

The middle picture was much more recent, only days old in fact.  A picture that Peggy had taken with her phone of Steve and Sharon, looking through the box of keepsakes.  Neither of them was looking at the camera, but they were standing very close together, their heads nearly touching, with matching expressions of concentration on their faces.  Day to day, they didn’t resemble each other particularly closely, but in that picture, the family resemblance was obvious.

 

The final picture was in sepia tones, taken in London in early 1944.  Peggy and Steve were both in uniform, standing at a table that held a giant map of Europe.  They were standing next to each other, but not particularly close.  However, they were looking at each other.  There was absolutely nothing untoward in the picture, nothing that would have garnered either of them so much as a verbal reprimand.  And yet, it was clear that there was a wealth of emotion between the two of them, at that point, unacknowledged and unconsummated.

 

Steve looked up at her, but didn’t say anything, he tugged on her arm and she leaned down and kissed him.

 

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

 

“One more,” Bucky said, ruining the moment by tossing an Amazon box at Steve.  Steve frowned at it, but opened it to reveal a new video game.  “C’mon,” Bucky said, “let’s play it.”

 

As Bucky walked around her to get to the couch, Peggy grabbed his arm and stopped him.  “How did you manage to buy something from Amazon?” she asked.

 

He leaned down and kissed her forehead.  “I owe ya.”

 

* * *

 

 

Sharon was standing in the middle of the living room, looking down at the outfit she’d changed into.  She was wearing a pair of black leather leggings with heels that would make her nearly as tall as Steve.  Her shirt was a deep indigo tanktop that fit loosely, with lace detailing at the neckline.  Her hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail.  Overall the look was quite pretty and far more feminine than anything Peggy could remember seeing Sharon in for a very long time.

 

“You look nice,” Peggy said.

 

Sharon looked at her for a moment, apparently trying to assess if it was a genuine compliment or not.  Finally she said, “Thank you.”

 

Peggy was going to write her attitude off as nerves.  She knew that Sharon wasn’t excited at the prospect of being Steve’s date to Tony’s party.  It helped that Sam would be there.  And Natasha.

 

Steve finally joined them, looking polished as ever.  Seeing him like this only reminded Peggy how much she enjoyed seeing him undone and rumpled.  His blue shirt was freshly pressed.  The trousers were dark, thankfully.  She had hidden the chinos several days earlier, but noticed he’d found them again.  She was going to have to get them out of the apartment completely.

 

“Please tell me this isn’t the first time you’ve taken a date to one of these get togethers,” Sharon said.

 

Steve frowned.  “Okay.  I won’t tell you.”

 

She winced.  “Really?”

 

He shrugged.  “I didn’t date a lot.”

 

“Or at all,” Peggy said dryly, taking a seat in one of the stools at the island, watching them.

 

Steve frowned at her.  “It’s hard to find someone with shared life experience,” he said.  “In case you haven’t noticed.”

 

Sharon and Peggy both just looked at him.  They both knew exactly what he was talking about, but neither of them had taken it as a reason to live like monks.  Peggy was pretty sure the same was true of Bucky too.

 

“Did you ever try?” Peggy asked curiously.  He frowned again.  “No, really,” she pressed.  “Did you?”

 

“You’re starting to sound like Natasha,” he said sourly.

 

Sharon took a seat in the stool next to Peggy, looking at Steve.  “Why didn’t you?” Sharon asked.

 

Steve gaped at them.  “You’re ganging up on me now?”

 

“No one’s ganging up on you,” Peggy said, sighing.  “So dramatic.  We’re just curious.”

 

“I can’t win,” he muttered.  “Look, before the serum, no woman wanted me because of the way I looked and after the serum, they only wanted me because of the way I looked.”

 

“First off,” Peggy said, “that’s not true of _every_ woman.”

 

“Present company excluded,” Steve said with a frown.

 

“And secondly,” Peggy continued, “did you ever give any of them a chance to get to know more of you other than just how you look?”  Steve just stood there looking like a wet cat.  “Didn’t think so,” Peggy said, shaking her head.

 

Steve crossed the room to her and kissed her.  “When are you going to find out if your sitter’s available?” he asked.

 

“It’ll be an hour at least before I hear anything.  If she can come over, it won’t be until late.”

 

“Who is this person?” Bucky asked.

 

“She’s an Agent,” Peggy said.  “And she can kill you with her mind.  So if she is available, you’d better be on your best behavior.”

 

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Steve asked.

 

Peggy patted his shoulder.  “It’ll be fine.  If I’m headed over, I’ll text and let you know.”

 

He kissed her again and then ushered Sharon toward the door.

  
END CHAPTER


	27. The Party - Steve's Birthday, Pt. 2

Sharon kept rearranging the neckline of her shirt.  “It’ll be fine,” Steve said in what he hoped was an encouraging tone.

 

She looked over at him and gave him a watery smile.  He wasn’t sure if her nervousness had a target, or if it was just general discomfort with crowds.  Or Avengers.

 

The elevator opened and it was chaos, as was usual for one of Tony’s get togethers.  The space was a masterwork of modern architecture that offered stunning views of the city.  The area was huge, large enough to hold several hundred people, though there were probably less than a hundred in attendance at the moment.  There were multiple levels.  The main floor was glass and you could see through it into one of Tony’s robotics labs, which looked like it was lit for effect, but nothing was currently working in there.

 

Steve led the way and Sharon stayed close to him, nodding to several people she knew, but not stopping to talk.  They stopped at the bar and Steve grabbed a beer for himself and a white wine for Sharon.

 

They stood there, with their backs to the bar, surveying the room.

 

“So everyone’s here?” she asked.

 

Steve looked around.  “Looks like,” he said.  “And hey,” he said with a smile, “I’m not the only one who brought a date.  Looks like Jane is here with Thor and Pepper’s talking to Rhodey.”

 

“Natasha doesn’t look like she has a date,” Sharon said.

 

Steve shook his head.  “She and ... Banner are kinda ... somethin’.”

 

“Banner?” Sharon asked, eyebrow arched.

 

Steve held up his hands.  “I don’t judge.”

 

“Fair enough,” Sharon said, looking around the room again.  

 

As they stood there, Sam crossed the room to them, going to stand on Sharon’s other side.  He held his bottle of beer up to her in salute.  “Lookin’ good.”

 

She rolled her eyes, but smiled.  “Thanks.”

 

“Your date on the other hand,” he said, frowning.  “Lookin’ a little old.”

 

Steve’s reply was cut short by Tony, who held his hands out, yelling loudly, “Shazza!”

 

Sharon frowned again, but set her wine glass on the bar, so she could embrace Tony.  He pulled back and looked at her, shaking his head.  “Jesus, you look good,” he said.  “How long has it been?”

 

“A while,” Sharon said.  She looked back at Steve.  “Tony, I’m pretty sure you’ve met my d- “

 

“Say date!  Say date!” he barked.

 

“ _Dad_ ,” Sharon clarified, arching an eyebrow at him.

 

“Shit,” Tony cursed, but didn’t actually seem too shocked.  “I owe Fury a thousand bucks.”

 

“You _bet_ on Sharon’s paternity?” Steve asked, incredulous.

 

Tony pointed at him.  “Don’t be a killjoy, old man.”  He tucked Sharon’s hand into the crook of his elbow.  “C’mon Shar, let’s go meet some people who aren’t total downers.”

 

Sharon looked over her shoulder at Steve and Sam apologetically, but went with Tony.

 

“That guy’s an asshole,” Sam said, frowning.

 

“You should have met his father,” Steve said, not unkindly.  “He comes by it naturally.”

 

* * *

 

Steve kept checking his phone, but there was no text from Peggy.  Which, was fine.  She was absolutely right about not leaving Bucky alone.  But still, especially since Tony and Sam seemed to be taking turns absconding with his date, Steve was feeling as much the third wheel as ever.

 

He finally took a seat in one of the many conversation areas.  Jane Foster took pity on him and sat there discussing astronomy with him until Thor showed up and whisked her away.  For a while he and Sam played pool, until Hill joined them and showed them both that they were complete amateurs.  Sam limped away toward Sharon, metaphorically licking his wounds, leaving Steve with Maria.  He got another vodka tonic for her and another beer for himself and they took a seat on the couch across from Natasha and Clint.

 

“So ... your _daughter_ ,” Maria said, looking pointedly at Steve.

 

“Yeah, man,” Clint said, his amusement clear.  “Tell us about that.  Tony thought she was Barnes’, right?”

 

Steve shrugged, looking to Natasha for help.

 

“So once upon a time,” Natasha said blandly, “during the war, there was a brave young soldier and -”

 

“ _Enough_ ,” Steve said, wincing.  That wasn’t exactly the kind of help he’d been wanting.

 

“So, Sharon is really your daughter then?” Hill asked.  “No mad scientist working with cloning and eighty year old blood samples?”

 

“Nope,” Steve said tightly, taking a drink.  “Old fashioned way.”

 

Hill leaned back, studying him.  “I thought you said that wasn’t possible.”

 

Steve frowned.  “I was ...wrong,” he said.  He around at them and said firmly, “You’re not getting any details.”

 

Barton chuckled in amusement and said, “Cheers,” holding his bourbon up toward Steve.

 

“Yeah, thanks,” Steve replied dryly.

 

“I just want to get this straight,” Maria said apologetically, “but this random woman says she’s your daughter and you take her at her word?  Don’t get me wrong.  Clearly, if she was born right after World War II, there’s something going on with her.  But it’s a hell of a leap from suppressed aging to being your kid.  Especially when you were so convinced earlier that it wasn’t possible”

 

Steve took another drink, contemplating his reply.  It was none of their business.  But at the same time, it wasn’t a secret.  And they were as close as he got to having friends.  “Sharon isn’t the one who told me,” he said. “Her mother told me that she was my daughter.  And I took _her_ at her word.”  

 

Maria arched an eyebrow at him.

 

“Sharon chose _not_ to take her mother at her word.  We did DNA testing,” Steve continued.  He held up his beer.  “She’s mine.”

 

“And her mother?” Thor asked, leading Jane up the stairs and guiding her into one of the overstuffed chairs as he took a seat perched on its arm.  “She is still alive, then, if you spoke with her.”

 

Steve winced.  He hadn’t realized Thor was listening in.  Though he suspected it was probably a subject that hit pretty close to home for the demigod.  He was immortal.  Jane was not.

 

Natasha looked at Steve expectantly and he knew she was enjoying watching him squirm.  “Sharon’s mother is very much alive,” Steve said.  He still had the bite marks from earlier to prove it.

 

“It’s ... uncommon that she’s still alive, though,” Jane said carefully, “if Sharon was born right after the war.”

 

“Sharon doesn’t get her lack of aging from me,” Steve said.  “She gets it from Peggy.”

 

“Peggy?” Maria said, shocked.  “Peggy _Carter_?”

 

Steve nodded, knowing full well that this was going to happen.  Peggy had warned him specifically about her history with the team.  “The one and only.”

 

“Are you shitting me?” Clint asked, incredulous.  “You and Peggy Carter have a kid?”

 

“Why does everybody have that reaction?” Steve demanded, irritated.  During the war, they’d been careful, discrete, because of the regs.  But as far as Steve knew, no one thought the fact that he and Peggy were attracted to each other was cause for concern in itself.

 

“We have that reaction because Peggy Carter is a - “ Clint started and then stopped abruptly.

 

“ _Is a_?” a crisp female voice prompted.

 

Steve stood and turned to see Peggy walking up the stairs, wearing a crimson dress made of a stretchy, slightly metallic fabric that absolutely hugged her curves.  Her long hair was loose and she was wearing a lot of dark eye makeup.  He swallowed thickly.

 

Steve understood, in that moment, that if this was how the rest of them saw Peggy, he got why they thought he and she were an odd pair.  She looked dangerous.  And out of his league.

 

He walked over to her, meeting her at the top of the stairs.  “Hey,” he said, leaning down and kissing her.  “I thought you were going to text.”

 

“Oh,” she said, smiling up at him wickedly.  “I thought it might be fun to surprise you on your birthday.”

 

“It worked,” he said, looking her over from head to toe, taking her hand in his.  That dress should have been illegal.  It completely put the one from the London pub to shame.  At this point, Steve didn’t need imagination to know what Peggy looked like naked, but in that dress, no one else did either.  He forced himself to look away and turn back to the group.

 

“Peggy, these are my friends,” he said, “Thor Odinson and Jane Foster.”  

 

Steve turned.  “You already know Natasha and Clint and Maria.”

 

He turned back to Thor and Jane.  “Thor and Jane, this is Peggy Carter, my ...”  He stopped and looked down at Peggy, having no idea how to finish that sentence.

 

“Partner,” Peggy finished for him evenly.  Steve smiled at her.

 

Peggy shook Jane’s hand.  Thor insisted on pressing a kiss to the back of Peggy’s hand, which earned him one of her smiles, but glares from both Steve and Jane.  Peggy looped her arm through Steve’s leaning into him.

 

“Oh my God,” Barton said, staring openly at them.

 

Peggy rolled her eyes and shook her head, leading Steve back toward the couch.  She made him sit in the middle, between her and Maria.

 

“So you two are - “ Maria started, shaking her head.

 

“ _Yes_ ,” Peggy said with a finality that warded off additional questions.

 

“Okay,” Maria said, throwing back the rest of her drink.

 

Clint was still just staring at them.  

 

“Barton, seriously,” Steve chided.

 

“Sorry, man, sorry,” he said, forcing himself to look away.  “I just ... wow.  The things you don’t expect.  Like the Chitauri invasion.  And Steve and Peggy as a couple.”

 

Maria got up to get another drink just as Sam and Sharon joined the group.  There weren’t enough places to sit, so Peggy stood up and had Steve scoot over so Sharon was between him and Sam.  Then Peggy situated herself in Steve’s lap, wrapping her arm around his neck.  Sharon rolled her eyes and shook her head, but Steve smiled, wrapping his arm around her waist.

 

“Guess you found a sitter,” Sharon said.

 

“I did,” Peggy said brightly.

 

“A sitter?” Barton asked.  “You got another kid at home?”

 

“Dog,” Peggy said.  “Little, yappy dog.  Very high strung.  Can’t be left alone with all the fireworks.”

 

“Holy mother of bandage dresses,” Tony said loudly.  Not at all dissuaded by the fact that Peggy was actually sitting in Steve’s lap, Tony hugged Peggy and kissed her cheek.  “Peg,” he said, looking her over.  “Jesus Christ, I have to say that even looking at this wildly inappropriate public display of affection between two senior citizens, I cannot imagine you and Rogers together at all.”

 

“If it’s all the same,” Peggy replied evenly.  “I’d prefer that you not imagine it.”

 

“Touché,” Tony said.  He shrugged.  “But seriously.  You’re ... evil and he’s ... him.  How does that even work?”

 

Peggy opened her mouth to reply, but Sharon said in a strangled voice, “ _Mother_.”  Peggy frowned at Tony, but remained silent.

 

Steve reached over and patted Sharon’s hand.

 

Tony looked at the three of them, shaking his head.  “She looks like you,” he said to Peggy, “but on the inside, she’s all him isn’t she?”

 

Peggy tilted her head in acknowledgement.

 

Looking at Steve and Sharon, Tony said, sotto voce, “You two are no fun.”  He turned back to Peggy.  “So, you are looking _exceptional_ for a dead woman.”

 

She frowned at him.  “I’m not sure that you’re really entitled to call me out on that,” she said, canting her head to the side.  “I seem to remember you hiding out in ... Tennessee, wasn’t it?”

 

“What about Tennessee?” Pepper said, walking up to Tony, putting a hand on his shoulder.

 

Tony wrapped his arm around her waist.  “Pepper, let me introduce you to one of my father’s closest co-conspirators, Peggy Carter.  Or do you prefer co-defendant?”

 

Pepper smiled and shook Peggy’s hand, but from the look on her face, Steve knew that Pepper recognized Peggy, probably from the doctor’s office.

 

“Peggy,” Tony said, “this is my fiancée, Pepper.”

 

“A pleasure,” Peggy said brightly.

 

“So,” Pepper said, looking at Peggy.  More specifically at where Peggy was sitting.  “I guess you and Steve ... “

 

“Oh, no,” Tony said, pulling her close, speaking conspiratorially, “it’s even better than you think.  Peggy’s the same age as Steve.  They had a ... _thing_ , during the war.  Which led to ... Sharon,” Tony said, pointing at Sharon.

 

Pepper glowered at him, no doubt taking exception at his lack of manners.

 

“What?” he asked.  “It did.  Really.  There’s apparently a DNA test to prove it.  And now I owe Fury a thousand bucks.”

 

Pepper’s frown deepened and Tony sighed.

 

* * *

 

Peggy was enjoying herself, curled up against Steve.  She didn’t miss the way he kept touching her.  In general, he was pretty handsy with her, but she hadn’t expected him to be that way in public.  She doubted that he expected it either.  She knew he liked the dress.  A lot.

 

Peggy was terribly amused by Steve’s teammates reactions to their relationship.  She understood, of course, that most of them had a very definite idea of who she was, and a very definite idea of who Steve was.  And she could see how those seemed incompatible.  But she also knew that there was more to both her and Steve than any of them were giving them credit for.

 

As soon as it was completely dark outside, the fireworks started.  From the top of the tower, they all had a fantastic view.  Peggy stood there, watching, with Steve standing behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist.  She’d been concerned that Sharon might not appreciate having her date stolen, but looking over at Sharon and Sam, Peggy didn’t think she minded.  Peggy was also reevaluating what was going on with Sharon and Sam.  It looked like a bit more than moral support.  Though, knowing Sharon, things were proceeding at a snail’s pace, if at all.  Like Tony noted, Sharon was very much Steve’s daughter in many ways.

 

There was a jazz quintet that started playing after the fireworks ended.  A few people got up to dance.  Peggy pulled Steve toward the dancefloor.  He looked apprehensive, but he also understood the importance.  Their dance.  The dance they never got to have.

 

The song was slow, as Steve had requested, and he pulled her close.  No complicated steps and no toes were injured.  His hands wandered quite a bit.  He leaned down and whispered in her ear, “You look incredible.”

 

She smiled, but didn’t look at him.  “You like the dress?” she asked coyly.

 

He pulled her tighter against his body and she felt a shiver of anticipation.  

 

“You’ve never shown me your office,” she said lightly.

 

“I should _really_ do that,” he said quietly.

 

She looked up at him and he smiled wickedly.  He stepped back from her and took her hand, leading her to the elevator.

 

* * *

 

He pinned her against the wall, kissing her frantically as he closed and locked his office door.  The overhead lights were off, but there was enough illumination coming from Banner’s lab that it wasn’t completely dark.

 

She tugged at his shirt, pulling it free from the waist of his trousers.  “You had better have a condom,” she said, around her bite on his bottom lip.

 

“I always have one,” he said.  “Always.”  He fished his wallet out of his back pocket as Peggy went to work on his belt.

 

He skimmed the skirt up her legs and shivered, “You’re not wearing underwear.”

 

“No,” she said wickedly, “I’m not.”

 

“ _Fuck_ , Peggy,” he cursed, lifting her off the ground and taking a step and half before setting her on his worktable.  He shoved schematics and prototype gloves to the side, sending them crashing off the far end of the table.

 

Peggy quickly undid the fly of his trousers, stroking him roughly as he hissed between his teeth.  They were like that for a while, fondling, rubbing, kissing.  Eventually it was too much and Steve batted her hands away, quicking rolling the condom down his cock and pulling her to the edge of the table.

 

She groaned as he slid inside, digging her heels into his backside, using the leverage to pull him against her harder.  She shifted, pulling down the top of her dress so her breasts were uncovered.  His right hand immediately went to her breast, cupping, pinching her nipple as he kissed her.

 

“This is what I wanted you to do that night in the pub, when I said we could go dancing,” she said between kisses.

 

He met her gaze and then looked away, concentrating the physicality of what they were doing.  But she knew he was listening, waiting.

 

“I wanted you to take me out of there,” she said.  “I wanted everyone in that pub to know where we were going and why.  I wanted you to take me back to HQ, set me on one of the tables and fuck me like this, like I was yours.”

 

He groaned, hissing through his teeth as his muscles corded.  She held him, pressing kisses to his jaw, his neck.  He stood there, breathing hard.  He pulled back far enough to look at her.  “Did you mean that?”

 

“Every word,” she said seriously.  Then she smiled, “Though I didn’t think I’d have to wait nearly eighty years to make it a reality.”

 

He snorted in amusement and kissed her, long and deep.  He withdrew and tossed the condom before hooking his arms under her legs and pulling, tumbling her back onto the table.  She threaded her fingers through his hair as he licked and kissed and sucked her to climax.

 

* * *

 

Peggy assured herself in the bathroom mirror that she looked presentable.  Maybe a little rumpled, but nothing scandalous.  Smoothing the dress down one last time, she exited the bathroom and walked back to the party.  She found Steve staring out at the skyline, she joined him, hooking her arm through his.

 

They stood there for quite a while.  Eventually Sharon came over to them.  

 

“Look, I think I’m gonna - “ she started and then stopped, looking at them.  “ _Oh God_ ,” she swore.  “You two are so embarrassing.”

 

Steve looked at himself and Peggy and shrugged.  “What?”

 

Sharon just shook her head, her disgust clear.  “I’m leaving,” she said.  “I finally have what I need for the other half of your birthday present, so I’ll stop by tomorrow.”  Shaking her head, she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.  “Happy birthday.”  She was still shaking her head as she walked away.

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t terribly late when Steve and Peggy made it back to the apartment.  Peggy walked inside first, stopping in the kitchen.  “Steve,” she said, “this is Agent Melinda May.”

 

“Agent May,” Steve said, shaking her hand.

 

Both Agent May and Bucky were sitting at the island.  Peggy had no idea what they had been doing before she opened the door.  It really looked like they were both just sitting there in complete silence.  Peggy truly couldn’t imagine how anyone could have coerced Bucky into shutting his mouth, though if anyone was capable, it was Melinda.

 

“How’d it go?” Peggy asked.

 

Melinda smiled a small, knowing smile.  “Oh, everything was just fine.”

 

Peggy walked Melinda to the door, thanking her again, though Melinda had owed her a favor.  Peggy returned to the kitchen, leaning against Steve.

 

“Musta been a hell of a party,” Bucky said dryly.  “Looks like you two got laid.  Bet Sharon loved that.”

 

Peggy shook her head, toeing out of her heels and walking down the hall.  “I’m going to bed,” she said.

 

Steve just shook his head at Bucky.  “I’m going with her.”

 

  
END CHAPTER


	28. WTF Howard? - Steve's Birthday, Pt. 3

Steve blinked awake and turned his head, looking at Peggy in the early morning light.  She was still asleep, body completely lax, sprawled on her stomach, taking up most of the bed.  She was wearing one of his undershirts and he made a mental note to stop by his apartment and get the rest of his clothes and bring them over.  He didn’t have enough clothes at her place for her to be stealing them, but he wasn’t about to ask for them back.  He liked the way they looked on her too much.

 

He still couldn’t believe she’d shown up to the party in that dress.  She’d blown his mind, and everybody else’s, judging from their reactions.  He thought he couldn’t imagine anything sexier than the way she looked last night.  But looking at her now, asleep next to him, wearing his shirt, no makeup, no artifice, no defenses ... he thought maybe this was actually sexier.  Even with her drooling on her pillow.

 

He rolled toward her and she frowned, stretching.  Without opening her eyes, she scooted closer to him, sighing contently as she twined her feet with his, tucking her head under his chin.

 

“You awake?” he asked.

 

“No,” she said.  “Shhhhh.”

 

He grinned and pulled her close, running his hands over her back.  She made a sound of pleasure and pressed herself closer to him.

 

“C’mon, _partner_ ,” he said, “wake up.”

 

She pulled back and cracked one eye open, frowning at him.  “It’s Saturday.”

 

He pressed nipping kisses to her neck.  “I didn’t say we needed to get out of bed.”

 

She chuckled and pulled him close.

 

* * *

 

 

A long while later, they lay together on the bed, totally spent.  Steve’s undershirt and all of the covers were somewhere on the floor.  Peggy lay on her back, looking up at the ceiling.  Steve was on his side, next to her.  Their hands were twined together, resting on her stomach.

 

“So back to the partner thing,” he said, apropos of nothing.

 

She arched an eyebrow at him.  “I wondered how long you could take living in sin.  You lasted longer than I thought you would.”

 

He frowned at her.  “And here I expected some crack about rushing into things.”

 

She rolled onto her side, facing him, their heads on the same pillow.  “I understand that it’s important to you,” she said seriously, “but from my perspective, having some piece of paper is nothing but the driest formality.  I don’t need any socially constructed seal of approval to know that I belong with you and you belong with me.”  

 

“Peggy, it’s more than a formality,” he said.  “There is a purpose to standing up in front of people we care about and making a commitment to one another.”

 

She smiled at him.  “Honestly, I think between the dress and sitting on your lap last night, we’re probably good on making statements in front of people.”

 

He pushed himself up on his elbow, looking down at her.  “Is that a yes, or a no?”

 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said with faux seriousness, “did you ask a question?”

 

He frowned.

 

“Oh, no,” she said, wagging a finger at him, “you’re the one interested in social constructs and formality.  You can’t have it both ways.”  

 

* * *

 

Peggy ended the call and looked at Steve as he brushed his teeth.  He rinsed his mouth out and put the toothbrush back in the holder.

 

“That was Agent May?” he asked.

 

Peggy nodded.  “She said that things went well last night with Bucky.”

 

Steve looked at her, hands on his hips.  “You’re wondering if he can be on his own.”

 

“We can’t keep him locked up in this apartment indefinitely, Steve,” she said seriously.  “We’ve got to give him a chance at a life.”

 

“And if it backfires and someone gets hurt?” Steve asked tightly.

 

She shook her head.  “What’s the alternative?  That we spend the rest of our lives constantly supervising him?  He’s been very accommodating up to this point, but he will eventually hate us for it, especially if we don’t even give him a chance.”

 

Steve sighed.  She knew he wasn’t comfortable with the idea of Bucky being on his own.  Truthfully, she wasn’t either.  And Steve had valid concerns about Bucky accidentally hurting someone.  But they had to give him a chance to be a real person again.  He was making good progress getting himself back together.  He wasn’t the old Bucky.  Peggy knew he would never be the old Bucky again.  But he seemed more human than not.  And Melinda didn’t immediately balk at the idea of Bucky being on his own, which was reassuring.

 

“I don’t like the idea of putting him up at my apartment,” Steve said.  “It’s too accessible to Tony.”

 

“We’re going to have to address that at some point too,” she said.

 

Steve shook his head.  “Not right now,” he said firmly.  “One step at a time.  We have to find a place for Bucky and see if he can make it before we try untangling the Winter Soldier’s web.”

 

“I was thinking about my loft,” she said.  “No one knows about it.  It’s also closer than your apartment.”

 

“Maybe,” Steve said frowning.

 

“The neurologist is supposed to be back on Monday to check on him,” she said.  “Let’s see what he has to say and then we can sit down with Bucky and discuss options.”

 

Steve nodded.

 

* * *

Peggy was cleaning up the breakfast dishes when there was a knock on the door.  Bucky had retreated to the guest room.  Steve got up and answered the door, letting in Sharon and Sam.

 

“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” Sharon asked, frowning.

 

“No,” Steve assured her, shaking his head.  “We just had breakfast.”

 

Sharon eyed him suspiciously but finally nodded and walked into the kitchen.  Steve knew she was still irritated about last night at the party.  Not mad, exactly, but embarrassed.  To his own shock, Steve wasn’t embarrassed.  He and Peggy were adults.  They were in love.  He understood that for Sharon, the concept of having parents, much less having parents who were intimately involved, was new and unsettling.  But she’d have to get over it.  Because it wasn’t going to change.

 

As Steve watched, Sam set a cardboard box on the island.  Carefully, Sharon removed a smaller box and a rectangular case.  Peggy looked at the items and frowned.  “Those look old,” she said.

 

“They are,” Sharon said.  “Well, about as old as me, anyway.”  She looked at Steve.  “This is for you,” she said, handing him the smaller box.

 

He took it from her, frowning.  “From you?”  He opened the box, and found that it held a reel of magnetic audio tape, the kind that went into a reel to reel player.  He hadn’t seen one of these since before he went into the ice.

 

“From Howard Stark, actually,” she said.  At Steve’s look of confusion, she continued, “Tony and I spent a lot of time together in the late nineties, doing a lot of research, digging through old files.  I ran across this in a box of Howard’s old junk.  After Margaret told me that you were my father, I took it. Tony said that Howard had a habit of recording messages.  He recorded one for you.”

 

Steve frowned.  “What’s on it?”

 

Sharon shook her head.  “I don’t know,” she said.  “I never listened to it.”  She glanced at Peggy and swallowed thickly, looking back to Steve.  “The news that you were my father from Margaret was ... difficult.”

 

Peggy flushed, pursing her lips together.

 

“Difficult?” Steve asked, looking from Sharon to Peggy and back.

 

“I hit her,” Peggy said, meeting Steve’s gaze, almost daring him to condemn her.  

 

He just stared at her, attempting to take in the information that was being relayed so casually.  Sharon hadn’t known until the nineties that he was her father?  And when Peggy told Sharon, they’d had a fight that ended with Peggy hitting Sharon?

 

“I was ... antagonistic,” Sharon said quietly, carefully.  “I made a lot of accusations.  Unfounded, as it turned out.”

 

“It doesn’t matter what you said,” Peggy said tightly.  “I had no right to lay a hand on you.  I shouldn’t have done it and I regret it deeply.  I’m sorry.”

 

Sharon looked at her for a long moment and then nodded.  “Thank you.”

 

Steve still had no idea what to say or do.

 

Sharon looked back at him, motioning to the tape.  “Howard made this for you.  I figured that since you were back, you should have it.”  She looked at the island.  “The case is a player.  I borrowed it from Tony last night.  He never gets rid of anything.  I knew he’d have one sitting around somewhere.”

 

Steve looked again at the reel in his hand and shook his head.  There was a date on it.  August 1946.  He frowned, holding the reel out to Sharon.  “I don’t know that Howard ever intended for anyone to listen to this -“

 

She pushed it back toward him.  “Howard recorded it _for you_.  It’s yours.”

 

Steve frowned, unsettled.  He knew that things had been bad between Sharon and Peggy, but he’d studiously avoided asking for details.  He knew it wasn’t a long term plan.  If they were going to build any kind of relationship together, it would have to come out.  But it still upset him to the core to know just how acrimonious their relationship had been.  He’d never considered that physical violence had been part of it.  

 

He tapped the reel against his palm.  “Do you want to hear it?” he asked Sharon, and then looked over at Peggy.

 

Sharon crossed her arms over her chest, looking at the reel as if she hadn’t considered he would ask.  “I, uh,” she said.  “What if it’s personal?”

 

Steve arched an eyebrow.  “Howard and I were pals,” he said.  “But I can’t imagine that he’d say anything about me that could be considered private.”

 

Frowning, Sharon said, “I thought you were friends.”

 

“We were friends,” Steve said, “but aside from when he explained to me that fondue was bread and cheese, we didn’t have a lot of heart to hearts.  Most of our interactions were about the job or the Dodgers.  Howard tended to do most of the talking.”

 

Sharon shrugged, looking at Peggy.  “Okay.”

 

Sam set the player up on the coffee table and Steve and Sharon took a seat on the couch.  Peggy perched on the arm of the couch closest to Steve, but her arms were crossed over her chest and Steve knew she was still upset about the earlier discussion.

 

“You guys ready?” Sam asked.

 

“Yeah,” Steve said.

 

Sam flipped the switch on the player.  The sound quality was scratchy, degraded, but audible.

 

> _“Jesus,” Howard said.  “What’s today?  Okay, let’s be official.  It is eleven eighteen in the evening on August 4, 1946.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _There was a sound of weight shifting in a chair, a clink of ice cubes in a glass.  He laughed mirthlessly.  “Everyone thinks yer dead, Pal.  But they’re wrong.  I know they’re wrong.  I just hope I can prove it.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _He sighed.  “I’m recording this for you in case I forget.  You know, a primer to bring you up to speed on the things you missed while you were gone.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _He laughed bitterly and then there was a long, weighty silence._
> 
>  
> 
> _“The truth is that I know you’re dead,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion.  “And I’m a lapsed Catholic and this is easier than facing a priest.  Can you give me absolution, Steve?  I fucking hope so.  I need it.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“Your little girl is a year old,” he said.  “A year today.  She’s healthy.  Happy so far as I can tell.  She doesn’t look a damn thing like you, but I figure you’ll be okay with that.  She looks like her mama.  I’m sure your girl will be a beauty too.  And smart and strong.  Peggy would want me to add that.  She’d also tell me I’m a sexist pig while she’s at it. I don’t give a shit.  Your girl is gonna to be a knock out.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“Fuck,” Howard cursed, groaning.  “Sharon is good.  She’s strong.  She’s a fighter.  Got a hell of a set of lungs on ‘er.  She didn’t seem to like me too much, but that probably just shows good judgment on her part.  She’ll be fine.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _He sighed.  “Peggy on the other hand.”  Howard blew out a hard breath.  “Peggy’s a fucking wreck, Steve, and I don’t know what to do.  I don’t know how to make it better.  I can piss ‘er off, get her riled up.  But that only lasts so long.”  He sniffled and there was the sound of him taking a drink.  “Giving away your girl just ... it gutted her, Steve.  It gutted her.  Worse than losing you.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“Peg was right,” Howard said quietly.  “I haven’t told her.  And I’m not going to either.  But they found a coupla dames.  God, I don’t even know how they found ‘em.  I don’t know who found ‘em.  I don’t know if it was our side or theirs, but either way, Jesus, Steve.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“I mean, I know you didn’t -  I know you weren’t with them.  But you know how rumors are.  Private Lorraine.  Sally Martin, one of the USO chorus girls, the one you told me you had to bunk with that time in Philly when the bus broke down.  That girl, Carla, from that pub in London.  Hell, I’m pretty sure I slept with her.  They found ‘em Steve and the things they did to them.  Jesus Christ.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“Sally had a little boy.  Steve it was just .. fucking Christ, Steve, it was bad.  I didn’t tell Peggy.  I couldn’t.  Not after seeing how she was.  It woulda torn her up.  She’d already done what she needed to do, getting Sharon as far away from her as she could, hiding her.  And Peggy’s already gone off the deep end.  I’d hate to think what that information would do to her, if she knew it’s every bit as dangerous as she suspects.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“We try,” he said.  “Me and Phillips.  We try to make sure things are covered.  Sharon is safe.  Nobody suspects a thing.  She’s thousands of miles away.  Peggy’s a bigger target.  We try to make sure she’s protected, but you know what a pain in the ass Peg can be when she wants.  How the hell was she in the military?  I don’t understand.  She can’t follow an order to save her goddamn life, literally.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _He sighed, sniffling and seemed to regroup.  “I honestly don’t know if the serum’s a help or not,” he said.  “It, heals her.  Physically.  She’s not like you.  Not strong or fast.  But she can go the distance for sure.  I can’t even hazard a guess at what it would take to kill her at this point.  She can recover from damn near anything with enough time.  But emotionally ...”_
> 
>  
> 
> _He took a deep breath.  “She’s tried to hang it up, Steve.  At least two different times I know of and probably some I don’t.  I figured I should tell you about it.  I know she never will.  Hell, she won’t even admit it now.  First time, she opened up a bunch of really necessary arteries.  The other time with a bunch of pills and a plastic bag.”  He sighed. “She shouldn’t be here.  If she were the tiniest bit less resilient than she is, she never would have made it. No one found her in either case for hours, which I’m sure is how she planned it.  You know how efficient she is.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“God, I don’t know what to do,” he said, sobbing.  “Fuck, Pal.  I’ve screwed this up so badly.  I promised you I’d take care of them and I can’t.  I don’t know how.  Your girl is growing up with well meaning strangers.  Any time I try and reach out to Peggy, she bites the shit out of me.  Like a wounded animal that’s cornered.  She doesn’t know what to do besides attack.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _He was quiet for a long time.  There were more sounds of ice cubes clinking in liquid.  “It hurts to look at her, Steve,” he said.  “And I’m a piece of shit because I run away.  I’m not like you, Pal.  I can’t do it.  I can’t just take the endless venom she dishes out.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _He sighed.  “In my defense, she’s as likely to stab me as look at me.  She’d be nicer to you.  You always had a free pass with her.  Did you even know that?  I don’t know if you did.  Men are afraid of her for a reason, Steve.  She chews ‘em up and spits ‘em out.  But not you.  Never you.  She always liked you.  I mean, I know that you know she liked you.  But I mean, she didn’t just love you.  She liked you too.  I don’t think she likes many people.  Not anymore.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _Howard groaned and then coughed to clear his throat.  “I gotta find her a fuckin’ mission, Steve.  Give her something to do with herself.  She’s too fucking smart for her own good.  Being stuck in the SSR as some goddamn secretary isn’t doing anybody any favors.  She needs a purpose.  She can be runnin’ that damn division in a year or two if she puts her mind to it.  She needs to find something to do with her time that doesn’t involve destroying herself.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _He sighed.  “She needs to stick around.  Whether she realizes it or not, one of these days that little girl is going to need her.  And she has to be around for it.”  He took another drink.  “I really wish you were here, Pal.  They do too.  Wherever you are, Steve, I hope you’re watching them.   They need you.”_

 

There was silence and the recording ended.  

 

Steve just stared at the player, and then over at Peggy.  She still had her arms crossed over her chest and she was staring at the far wall.  He reached out toward her and she bolted off the couch, walking toward the door.  He stood up.  “Peggy?”

 

She didn’t stop.

 

Sharon stood as well.  “ _Mother?_ ”  There was a frantic edge to her voice.

 

With her hand on the doorknob, Peggy stopped.  She turned and looked back at them.  Without a word, Sam slipped out onto the terrace.

 

Slowly, Steve walked toward Peggy.  Her entire body posture was closed in on itself and though she had stopped, she was still positioned toward the door, like she wanted to bolt through it.  He stopped a few feet from her and held out his hand.  She looked at his hand, then his face, then to Sharon.  He could see the muscles in her throat move as she swallowed.  She had gone very pale, but there were bright red splotches along her neck and chest and ears.

 

She didn’t take his hand, but she slowly walked back into the kitchen.  Sharon was standing there, one hand resting on the island, the other fisted at her side.  “Is that - “ Sharon motioned with her head toward the tape player.  “Is that true?  Was Howard telling the truth?”

 

Peggy blinked quickly and tears wet her cheeks, but she didn’t seem to be aware of them.  She licked her lips.  “Yes,” she said quietly.  “It’s true.”

 

Sharon’s face pinched together in confusion and she shook her head.  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

Peggy let out a sharp, hysterical laugh and then caught herself.  “Why would I have told you?” she asked.  “So you could know that I tried to abandon you more than I already did?”

 

Sharon’s bottom lip trembled, but she pursed her lips together, frowning at Peggy.  She started to take a step and then stopped.  Then all at once, she reached out and hugged Peggy.  Peggy just stood there, clearly shocked.  Sharon held on, crying.  “I can’t lose you again,” she whispered.

 

Peggy screwed her eyes shut and hugged Sharon back.  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

 

Steve watched them for a long moment and then stepped forward, wrapping his arms around both of them.  They both shifted, wrapping an arm around him and he held them both to his chest tightly.  He’d had no idea.  He’d had no idea just how bad it had been, for both of them.  They were both so strong, so competent that it was easy to forget that they could be wounded so deeply and still carry on.  He cursed himself.  Because he should have known better than anyone just how deep those hurts could run.

 

Sharon laughed mirthlessly, resting her head against his chest.  “Happy birthday,” she said.

 

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and then Peggy’s.  “I have both of my best girls,” he said.  “There’s no better birthday present.”

  
END CHAPTER


	29. So Long and Thanks for All the Fish

Peggy and Sharon sat on the couch next to each other for most of the afternoon, seemingly reluctant to let each other out of their sights.  But Steve knew that things were still deeply wrong.  Peggy was responding to Sharon, reaching out.  And Sharon seemed to be tentatively reciprocating.  That was good.  That was more than Steve had dared to hope for.

 

Sharon, at least, seemed ... okay.  She was clearly upset.  But it seemed to Steve that she’d found some measure of peace in Howard’s revelations.  Some answer she’d been needing.  Which Steve found as depressing as encouraging.

 

But between him and Peggy, Steve could feel a distance, a disconnect  She had never intended for anyone, especially him, to know the things Howard shared.  Steve had read the report that Dugan made to Phillips about finding Peggy after the Valkyrie went down.  He’d known it was bad.  But Steve had never suspected it was _that_ bad.  Peggy spoke so little and, so stiltedly, about Sharon’s infancy, that Steve hadn’t pushed.  But clearly, there was so much more agony there than he had dared to fear.

 

So, Steve stood around the apartment, played some video games with Bucky and Sam, pretended to read.  He knew that Peggy was getting irritated with him, so he tried not to hover.  But dammit, he _wanted_ to hover.  He wanted to hold both of them close and make sure nothing could ever hurt them again.  He knew, of course, that it was a ridiculous notion.  But he still wanted to do it.

 

Steve needed to be in the office, but there was no way he was leaving Peggy and Sharon.  Not today.  Not for the world, literally.  Not even if Peggy would have preferred him to be gone, which he suspected she would have.  

 

He knew she felt raw, exposed.  He knew, in fairly abstract terms, how she came across to people.  Despite the fact that it frustrated him, he knew why the team found it so hard to imagine him and Peggy together.  She carefully cultivated her cast-iron bitch facade.  And Howard’s bombshell had torn that facade apart.  It exposed the brutal truth of how damaged she had been, how human and frail.  And she wasn’t comfortable with that level of exposure, even in front of him and Sharon.

 

Steve knew she’d been low.  Banner low.  She’d told him about the substance abuse, the ... people.  Those had been escapes, the avenues to which she turned when it all became too much.  So, for as much as she had recovered and as much as she had healed, he was worried about old patterns.  

 

Sitting there, he took a moment to reflect on how quickly things were changing for all of them.  Yes, it had been decade upon decade since the original wounds, but it had only been a matter of weeks since they were all reunited, since the old hurts had been dredged up.  Just that morning, he and Peggy had discussed marriage.  It was a lot of change to manage by any standard.

 

Steve took some measure of relief in the fact that Peggy hadn’t either kicked him out or left.  He knew, without a doubt, that if he were anyone else, she would have cut and run.  She almost had earlier.  Steve hadn’t missed the fact that she had stopped when _Sharon_ called her, not him.  Not that he cared one way or the other.  So long as one of them could get through to her, he was fine with it.  They had time.  They could work on it.

 

As evening approached, Sam and Sharon left together.  Sharon hugged Peggy tightly before she left.  It was a little awkward, but Steve figured it would get easier with time.

 

After they left, Peggy went to her office.  The door was open and Steve kept making excuses to walk by, checking on her.  She waved off the suggestion of food, opting for coffee.  Steve eventually got sucked into watching a baseball game with Bucky.  

 

The next time he got up to check on Peggy, she wasn’t in the office and for a moment, he panicked.  But when he looked around the apartment, he discovered she was asleep in bed.  Or pretending to sleep.  He suspected it was the latter, but he didn’t disturb her.  He knew she needed time and patience.  It was just that he worried.

 

* * *

 

It was late when Steve came to bed and even later when he finally fell asleep.  She felt like she’d been waiting an eternity for him to stop watching her.  She knew, mentally, that he was worried and that worry was rooted in a deep and abiding love.  

 

But she couldn’t _feel_ it.  

 

Not at all.  

 

She felt trapped.  Watched.  Judged.  Betrayed.

 

For Sharon, Peggy forced aside all the bullshit headnoise.  She forced herself to show up.  Because she had to.  Because it was her penance for not showing up so many times in the past.  The fact that Sharon hadn’t already completely written her off was a miracle.  Peggy knew that if she fucked things up again with her, there wouldn’t be another chance.  But that was really about all she was capable of doing.

 

Steve ... the way he kept looking at her, made her want to scream.  Fuck Howard and his fucking confession.  He had no right, _no right_ , to share that information.  It wasn’t his.  It didn’t belong to him.  It didn’t belong to Steve, no matter what Howard thought.  Steve lost his chance to be part of that discussion when he crashed that goddamn plane.  That was _his_ choice and she had respected it.  The things Howard revealed ... those had been _her choice_.

 

Carefully as she could, Peggy slipped out of bed.  She walked into the master bathroom and cupped her hand under the tap, taking a drink of water.  She braced her hands on the counter and stared at her reflection in the dim light.  She was wearing an old gray tanktop and a pair of black underwear.  It wasn’t exactly sexy, but it would probably make the point.

 

Bucky was still sitting on the couch, watching some ridiculous Japanese gameshow.  He arched an eyebrow at her as she sat down next to him.  She settled in, leaning her head against his shoulder.  The episode he was watching ended and another started.  Apparently it was a marathon for the holiday weekend.

 

Halfway through the next episode, she reached over and muted the sound, then climbed into Bucky’s lap, straddling him, face to face.  He didn’t move.  He just sat there, looking at her.  She braced her hands against the back of the couch on either side of his shoulders and leaned in toward him.  He turned his head away.  He swallowed thickly and leaned in toward her, his lips against her ear.  “ _What the fuck_ are you doing?”

 

She pulled back and looked down at him, lips pursed together tightly, anger and embarrassment blossoming in her chest.  “Is this honor among soldiers?” she demanded.  “You won’t touch me because you think I belong to Steve?”

 

She expected him to get angry.  Bucky had never been one to let cooler heads prevail.  But he just looked at her.  He smiled sadly.  “Nah, Ace,” he said quietly.  “I’m declining for _your_ benefit.  I know you’ve been through hell.  And I’m not going to help you throw your life away.”  He sighed.  “He’d take you back, you know.  Because he loves you.  Even if you don’t think you deserve it.  Even if it scares you to want it.”

 

She pushed off hard from the couch, intending to leave, but he caught her wrists easily, staring at her, stopping her.  “If you betray him like this, Peggy, it’s just a distraction.  It’s something you can beat yourself up over, so that you don’t have to actually deal with the pain and the past.  Trust me.  I know.”

 

She tugged ineffectually at her trapped wrists.  “You don’t know anything.”

 

He used his grip on her wrists to pull her close, so they were face to face.  “I heard the tape,” he said.  “I know what you did.  And I understand.  I know what it’s like to have your dark deeds pushed out in the open for everyone to see and judge.  He can take it, Peg.  But only if you give him the chance.”

 

Her chin wobbled and she failed miserably at preventing herself from crying.  “ _I’m_ the one who’s supposed to be strong.  I’m the one who lives through all this shit while everyone else goes.”

 

Bucky shook his head.  “Not anymore.  You’re not alone now.”

 

She tugged at her wrists and he finally released them.  She held them against her chest, curling in on herself.  There was a noise and Peggy turned to see Steve standing there in sweatpants, watching them, frowning.  She had no idea how long he’d been there, but she figured it had been a while.  He didn’t look angry.  He looked sad.  And tired.

 

Slowly, he crossed the room to where she still sat on Bucky’s lap.  Steve held out his hand and her chin wobbled again.  She screwed her eyes together tightly, shaking her head.  But she reached out and took his hand.

 

Carefully, he pulled her to her feet.  Her hand tucked in his, he led her behind him, through the apartment, back to their bedroom.  Wordlessly, he wrapped them both in the blankets, holding her close while she cried and cried.  She didn’t deserve him.  She knew that.  But she didn’t know what she would do without him.  Well, that wasn’t true.  She knew exactly where she’d be without him.  It was where she’d been three years ago when she first saw him on TV.  At rock bottom.

 

* * *

Peggy blinked awake.  It felt like the sun was trying to burn through the back of her skull.  Her eyes were swollen and scratchy.  Her head was stuffy and she had a pounding headache.  She was sure she looked every bit as awful as she felt.  

 

“I love you,” Steve said.

 

Frowning, she pushed herself into a sitting position, looking down at him.  He hadn’t shaved in a few days and he was looking decidedly scruffy.  “Last night I tried to seduce your best friend while you were asleep in our bed.”

 

He sighed and looked at her.  “If you’d really been intent on doing that last night, you could have found someone who would have taken you up on your offer, but you didn’t,” he said.  “You found the one guy who you knew would turn you down flat.  In a place where you knew you’d get caught.”

 

She frowned at him.  She really didn’t want to consider that she might be just that transparent.  And predictable.

 

“I know you’re angry at me for leaving you all those years ago,” he said.  “If I could change that, I would.  But I can’t.”

 

“Steve, I’m not - “

 

“You _are_ ,” he said firmly.

 

She looked down at him and then at the window.  He was right.  She was angry.  Angry at him for dying for the greater good, when she needed him so much.  The fact that he’d had no other choice didn’t matter.  Emotions didn’t follow logic.  He abandoned her.  The world found a savior in Captain America and Peggy Carter found bitter disappointment in Steve Rogers.

 

Learning that she was pregnant, expecting a child with the man she loved, should have been a joyous occasion.  Instead it was an embarrassment, an insult added to a grievous injury.  It meant abandoning her position within the SSR, her home, the camaraderie of people who knew and valued her.  If he had been any other man, she could have stayed.  It wouldn’t have been easy.  But there were lots of unwed mothers, lots of fatherless children in the aftermath of the war.  But because her lover was also the greatest scientific achievement of a generation, she was forced to run, to hide.  She was alone in a world where she couldn’t protect their child.

 

She clapped her hand over her mouth, fighting back the tears and bitter rage.  She had _hated_ him.  But she had also loved him so bloody much.  She had missed him like a limb, like one of her senses.

 

For as angry as she had been, there had also been joy.  The first time she had felt the baby kick, it had stopped her in her tracks and she had broken down in tears in a little bookstore in Burbank.  She hadn’t been able to protect Steve, but she vowed that she would protect their child at all costs.

 

“Peggy,” he said gently, “where’d you go?”

 

She crossed her arms over her chest, shaking her head.  “Steve, I don’t know how to do _this_.  I don’t know how to have this kind of relationship.”

 

“Neither do I,” he said, “but we’re going to figure it out.”

 

She frowned at him and flopped back on the bed.  He scooted closer, throwing an arm around her waist, watching her.  Grumbling, she rolled over onto her stomach and pulled a pillow over her head.

 

“I can wait,” he said blandly.  “You have to come out at some point.”

 

She wanted to scream.  Because she knew he absolutely meant it.  He’d just ... wait.  No matter how long, he’d still be there, ready to pick up the conversation where it left off.  Fuck Howard Stark and his stupid fucking tape reel.  Because he was right.  She couldn’t treat Steve the way she would have treated anyone else who dared to approach her when she was feeling like this.  Because she did both love _and_ like him.  Even if she felt neither of those things in relation to herself.

 

Several minutes later, Steve started pressing soft kisses to the backs of her upper arms, across her shoulders, to the nape of her neck.  She _wanted_ to hate it.  If it had been anyone else, she would have literally thrown off the pillow and punched them in the face as hard as she could.  But it wasn’t some random lover demanding attention when she was at the end of her quickly fraying rope.  It was Steve, reaching out for her in spite of everything she’d done.  And she felt so much relief that she was ready to start crying again.

 

Conceding defeat, at least to herself, Peggy rolled over onto her back and tossed the pillow away, looking at Steve.  His features were still pinched and with the scruff, he was looking a little on the dangerous side.  He’d had a rough twenty-four hours too, she knew.  

 

When he kissed her, she kissed him back.  Their coupling was raw and not particularly gentle.  She bit his shoulder hard enough to draw blood and she knew she’d have handprint shaped bruises on her hips by evening.  But it chased away the cold.  It made her feel human, if not happy.  It reminded her that she wasn’t alone.  Not anymore.

 

In the aftermath, she rested her head against his chest, running her finger over the scar on his abdomen, knowing it would eventually fade to nothing.  She was exhausted mentally and emotionally.  She knew he was too.  Sighing, she rolled over.  Steve followed, spooning against her back, throwing his arm around her waist.  

 

“I need to know, Peggy,” he said.  “I need to know what happened.”

 

“You were gone for seventy years, Steve,” she said wearily.  “You’re going to have to narrow it down.”

 

“You tried to kill yourself.  At least twice.  Were there others?” he asked, his voice was hard and she knew he meant to have answers.

 

If she’d been any less exhausted, she might have fought with him.  Or run.  But she was too spent to do either.  “There were others,” she admitted.  “I quit once it was apparent that nothing short of some gross physical maiming was going to do the trick.  I drew the line at inadvertently hobbling myself for eternity.”

 

“ _Peggy_.”

 

“ _What_?” she grouched, rolling over so she was facing him.  “Please, Steve, tell me how I was supposed to cope.  Tell me what the right way was.  You were dead.  Howard was hiding.  Nobody had any use for a female SSR agent once the war was over.  I gave - “  her voice cracked and she stopped, trying to get a rein on her emotions.  “I gave our baby away.”

 

He frowned, his features tight.  She had known, when she started speaking that he had been intending to argue with her.  Probably because he’d been through it too.  He’d woken up abandoned and alone.   _She_ abandoned him.  And he hadn’t resorted to the nuclear option.

 

But he hadn’t been forced to give up their child.  And as frustrated and hurt as he was by her suicide attempts, he couldn’t even pretend to understand how much that particular loss must have damaged her.  It was one of the many reasons she loved him.

 

“You did what you had to do to keep her safe,” he said gently.  “You heard Howard.  You were right. It was every bit as bad as you feared.”

 

“Do you think that mattered?” she asked bleakly.  “In that moment.  When I signed those papers and watched a stranger walk off with the child I’d carried, _our_ child.  Do you think that mattered?”

 

He frowned.  “No.  I don’t.”

 

“No,” she said thickly, looking at the ceiling.  “It didn’t matter.”  Tears streamed down her cheeks and she wiped them away impatiently.  “I loved her _so much_ ,” she said in a whisper.  “I wanted her so much.”  

 

She laughed mirthlessly.  “For a long time, I thought I loved her because she was all I had left of _you_.  But after a while I realized she was all I had left of _me_.  And I gave her away.”

 

He pulled her close, holding her against his chest and she let him.  Some part of her wanted to shove him away, to kick and scratch and bite and scream.  But a bigger part of her needed him so desperately, needed _him_ \- of all people - to understand why she did the things she did.  Why death had seemed a comforting option.

 

“Sharon’s home, Peggy,” he said quietly.  “I’m home.  We’re all home.”

 

“I’m not,” she whispered.

 

“Yes you are,” he said firmly.  “We’re all here.  Together.”  He sighed, tightening his arms around her.  “You’ve got to stop trying to push us away.  However scary it is to be a part of this, it’s not as scary as being alone.”

 

“But I’m used to being alone,” she said.

 

“Yeah,” he said, more than a little bitterly, “so am I.  And it’s bullshit.  I’m not doing it anymore and neither are you.”

 

She didn’t reply.  She knew he was right.  She knew.  But it was just so fucking hard.

 

* * *

Peggy managed to fall asleep for an extra hour or so, but her sleep was broken and troubled.  Eventually, she forced herself out of bed and into the shower.  She didn’t look at herself in the mirror.  She couldn’t.  Not yet.  Maybe not for a long time.

 

Steve was out in the kitchen, holding a cup of coffee.  She stared at the coffee pot dubiously, wondering if she dared risk it, when Bucky walked up to her.  She turned to look at him and, without warning, he grabbed her, dipping her backwards, trying to lick her face.

 

“What the fuck,” she spat, twisting away from him.  She stood there glaring at him and gave him a shove.

 

“Not fun, is it?” he asked.  “We’re even.  Don’t do it again.”

 

She looked at him, frowning, blushing from embarrassment.  “I’m sorry,” she said quietly.  “And thank you, for what you did last night.  Or didn’t do.”

 

“Don’t mention it,” he said blandly, “any time I can reject you sexually, I’m happy to do it.”

 

“You asshole.”

 

He shook his head at her.  “Language like that is not going to get you a piece of this.”

 

“I’m not afraid to give you a permanent limp,” she assured him darkly.

 

“And neither will that.”  

 

She flipped him the bird, but he smiled and reached out for her.  She let him pull her close and hug her too tightly.  “He’ll forgive you, Peg,” he whispered.  “But Sharon won’t.  Keep that in mind.”

 

END CHAPTER


	30. Total Cost of Ownership - Pt. 1

Peggy dressed in an old pair of yoga pants and one of Steve’s t-shirts, knotted at her midriff.  Steve leaned against the doorjamb to the closet, watching her as she laced up her athletic shoes.  She dragged her fingers through her hair, pulling it back into a bun.

 

“I thought you could take the car,” she said.  “Go to Brooklyn, get the rest of your stuff and bring it back.”

 

He nodded.  “What’re you doing?”

 

“I’m going over to the loft,” she said.  “There are some things I need to move into storage if Bucky’s going to be staying there.”  She shrugged.  “And I need to change the sheets.”

 

He was just standing there and Peggy was sure he wanted to negotiate different terms, most likely ones that involved her being in his line of sight all day.  But it wasn’t going to happen.  Not today.  “Please, Steve,” she said.  “I just ... need a couple of hours to myself.”

 

“In your crypt,” he said carefully.

 

She turned to look at him and shrugged.  “By coincidence,” she said.  “Not design.  If your apartment was a better option for Bucky, I’d be over there.”

 

She knew he didn’t like it, but he didn’t argue.  He stepped closer to her, pressing a kiss to her forehead.  “If it gets to be too much, call,” he said firmly.

 

She frowned and gave him a very half hearted salute.

 

* * *

 

Despite what Steve thought, Peggy had no desire to immerse herself in any more of her painful history.  There was more than enough of it every time she turned around.  She didn’t need to dig up more.  She called the super and he met her at the apartment.  She told him there was going to be a new tenant and that she needed some help moving things.  He sent his daughter and his nephew down, and they helped her move several heavy pieces of furniture.  After they left, Peggy changed the sheets and made a list of basic things Bucky would need if he was going to be living in the space.  She made sure to add chocolate chip protein bars.

 

By the time she finished, she was covered in dust and exhausted.  She locked up and walked down the block to grab a coffee.  As she was waiting for her coffee, her phone rang.  She answered it.  “Are you still in Brooklyn?”

 

There was a long pause on the other side.  “Peg, I’m at the Tower,” he said, his voice quiet and so very controlled.  “There was an accident.  Tony’s ... he’s in really bad shape.”

 

“I’ll be right there,” Peggy said, her heart pounding in her chest.  “I love you.”  

 

Peggy called Sharon en route and Sharon met her in the lobby of Stark Tower.  They rode the elevator up together.  “What happened?” Sharon asked.

 

Peggy shook her head.  “Steve didn’t say.  Only that Tony’s hurt.  Did Sam know anything?”

 

Sharon shook her head, her features tight.  “I couldn’t get in touch with him.”

 

Peggy reached over impulsively and gave Sharon’s hand a squeeze.  Her head snapped up and she gave Peggy a watery smile.  Peggy knew that Sharon and Tony had been close once, though she suspected that Sam being unreachable was the main source of Sharon’s anxiety.  That, and concern about how all of this was going to affect Steve.  Once they figured out what _all of this_ meant.

 

As soon as the elevator doors opened, Peggy and Sharon were moving quickly.  Maria saw them and immediately moved to intercept.  “Tony was exposed to a toxin,” Maria said tightly, leading them down the hall.  “He’s in the infirmary.  There are specialists flying in as we speak.”

 

They rounded the corner and Peggy could see through several layers of glass panes to the group of people watching as medical staff hovered around Tony.  Tony and the medical staff were in a dedicated room, which Peggy assumed could serve a variety of medical purposes from sickroom to operating theater.  Tony looked awful, even at a distance.  His eyes were closed, he was intubated and his skin had a decidedly grayish cast.  Peggy recognized Dr. Russo as one of the medical staff.

 

On the other side of a thick pane of glass, Steve, Sam, Clint, Natasha, Pepper and Happy watched the proceedings.  Pepper looked particularly awful, and Natasha’s right hand was heavily bandaged.  Peggy caught Steve’s eye and he tapped Sam on the shoulder.  The two of them left the observation room and met Peggy, Sharon and Maria in the hall.  Steve looked at Maria, shaking his head.  “When does Dr. Kumerow get here?”

 

“ETA in fifteen minutes,” she said.

 

“See if they can push it,” Steve advised grimly.  Maria nodded and stepped several paces away, reaching for her phone.

 

“What the hell happened?” Peggy demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.

 

Steve shook his head and Sam looked away, frowning.  “An accident,” Steve said.  “We’ve been having problems with the locking mechanism in the fishbowl - Banner’s containment cell - for weeks.  There was an incident and Tony was inadvertently exposed.”

 

“Exposed to what?” Sharon asked.

 

Steve shook his head.  “I don’t know what the hell it is.  Some gas that Tony and Banner thought might be able to subdue the Hulk.  I think it was originally designed as a pesticide.”

 

“You have pesticide piped in here and there’s no antidote?” Sharon said incredulously.

 

“There is antidote,” Steve said evenly.  He frowned.  “It’s just ... not working.”  He looked over his shoulder toward Pepper and then said quietly.  “I don’t know what the whole story is, but I’m pretty sure it’s something with Tony’s personal health history.  He’s more susceptible to certain toxins than other people.  This one in particular is bad.”

 

“Because he burned out his liver and kidneys,” Peggy guessed.

 

Steve shrugged. “Something like that, yes.  Though I think the years of palladium poisoning from his arc reactor had a lot to do with it too.”

 

“Jesus,” Peggy swore, shaking her head as she looked at Tony.

 

Sharon turned to Sam, saying quietly, “Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

 

He glanced at Steve and Peggy, leading Sharon away, down the hall and around the corner saying, “I dropped it when the shit hit the fan with Tony.  It’s in about fifty different pieces right now.”

 

Steve and Peggy stood alone in the hallway looking at each other.  She grabbed the hem of his shirt and tugged him closer.  He wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on top of her head.  “I’m sorry about Tony,” she said.  She pulled back far enough to look up at him.  “What really happened?”

 

Steve shook his head.  “Sam and Barton were screwing around, acting like a couple of eight year olds. I think Barton was trying to teach Sam a lesson, which he probably deserved.  Somehow Pepper was involved. I don't know how, I didn't see it happen.  Nobody realized she was there.  She ended up in the fishbowl.”  He sighed.  “It's built to hold the Hulk.  Pepper tripped the gas release.  Tony got her out, but he couldn't get himself out.”

 

Peggy nodded, leaning forward, resting her head against Steve's chest.  “What happened to Natasha’s hand?”

 

“Hand versus door.  Door won.”  He shook his head.  “She's usually not careless like that.”  He pursed his lips together.  “She probably needs surgery, but no one can get her to leave.”

 

The specialists arrived in fits and stops, all of them hovering over Tony.  Batteries of tests and interventions were ordered.  Barton somehow managed to get Natasha to see a doctor for her hand.  According to Barton's texts, emergency surgery was deemed necessary.  Natasha was probably already under the knife.  Peggy figured Nat would be back before the anesthesia had completely worn off.

 

Peggy knew Tony’s doctors were less convinced on a course of action.  Most of their treatments seemed to have no effect at all.  Tony was hanging in there, but it wasn’t looking good.  Peggy suspected Tony's survival thus far had more to do with his sheer, stubborn force of will than any medical procedure.  Tony hadn’t regained consciousness, which apparently wasn’t good either.

 

Afternoon turned into evening and people were milling around, nobody knowing what to do.  For a group of people designed to take action, it was an incredibly uncomfortable situation.  Fury showed up with Dr. Banner.  Both of them looked like they’d been through the wringer.  Peggy hadn’t thought it was possible for Dr. Banner to look any more solemn than usual, but she was wrong.  He seemed to take a lot of personal responsibility for Tony’s accident, even though he hadn't been present.

 

Peggy couldn’t stand there anymore, watching Tony slowly die.  She started wandering the halls.  The top of the Tower was an architectural wonder.  She’d only seen a fraction of it, at the party, and then when they went to Steve’s office.  There was floor after floor of labs and offices.  Tony and Pepper had the top five floors at their private penthouse.  Apparently below the R&D floors were more apartments, some reserved for team use and some for guests.

 

Peggy turned a corner and found herself in a large open space.  It looked like there’d been a war.  There was debris and damage everywhere.  Across the room, was what she could only assume was the remains of the fishbowl.  It had been destroyed, with significant artillery it looked like.  If that thing was designed to hold the Hulk, Peggy could only guess at what it must have taken to get Tony out of there.  She shivered and turned away.

 

Slowly, Peggy made her way back to the level with the infirmary.  She went in search of coffee, mostly to give herself something to do with her hands.  She turned on the lights in the gourmet kitchen and startled Pepper, who immediately jumped up from her seat and wiped at her tears.

 

“I’m so sorry,” Peggy said.  “I didn’t realize you were here.  I’ll go.”

 

“No, no,” Pepper said, “please, I’m sorry.  Stay.”  She stood there, arms wrapped around her middle, staring at the floor.  

 

Peggy wasn’t sure if she should leave or not, but Pepper looked so lost.  She was such a far cry from the incredibly polished woman Peggy had seen at the party only days ago.  Slowly, Peggy took a step forward.  “I was going to make coffee.  Would you care for some?”

 

Pepper looked up at her.  “Uh, tea, maybe?” she said.  

 

Peggy nodded.  “I can make tea.”

 

“That would be nice,” Pepper said absently.  “Herbal.”  Slowly, she sat back down.

 

Peggy searched, finding all the necessary supplies, enjoying the ritual of the task.  She finally placed the cup in front of Pepper, who smiled in thanks.  Pepper looked at Peggy and then away, clearly blinking back tears.  “I don’t mean to pry,” Pepper said, “but I’m fairly sure I saw you at Dr. Yao’s office last week.  Are you?  I mean, are you and Steve?”  She groaned and shook her head.  “Nevermind.  It’s none of my business.”

 

“It’s okay,” Peggy said gently.  “Uh, no.  I was there for birth control.”

 

“Oh,” Pepper said, frowning.  Her face seemed to crumple.  

 

Peggy moved forward, placing her hand over Pepper’s.

 

Sharon walked into the kitchen and stopped, looking at them.  “Sorry,” she said, and turned to leave.

 

“No,” Pepper said, “It’s okay.  Please.  Come back.”  She wiped at her tears and shrugged.  “It’s not going to be a secret for long anyway.”

 

Sharon frowned, but stepped closer.

 

“I’m pregnant,” Pepper said in a tiny, choked voice.  She shook her head, fighting back tears.  “We had been trying for a really long time.  I just ...”  She growled, fighting for composure.  “I mean, Tony was twenty when Howard died and look what a mess he turned out to be.  What hope does our son have if Tony doesn’t even make it to his birth?”

 

Peggy tightened her grip on Pepper’s hand.  She so badly wanted to offer words of encouragement, but she knew the odds as well as Pepper.  Tony most likely wasn’t going to make it.  Tony had lived a charmed life.  He probably burned through nine lives and took several more on credit.  His luck was destined to run out.  And with spectacularly shitty timing.  That was something Peggy knew a lot about.

 

Pepper took a deep breath and looked at Peggy.  “You did this, didn’t you?” she said.  “I mean, For decades you thought Steve was dead.  You had to do it all alone.”  She shook her head.  “How did you do it?”

 

“You really don’t want advice from me,” Peggy said bluntly.  “I’m the cautionary tale.”

 

Pepper laughed in spite of herself, but the laughs quickly dissolved into sobs. “I’m sorry,” she said.  “I’m usually not like this.”

 

“It’s okay,” Peggy assured her gently.

 

Shaking her head, Pepper whispered, “I don’t think I can do this.”

 

“No one does, dear,” Peggy said quietly.

 

* * *

 

Peggy plied Pepper with several cups of tea and then she and Sharon convinced Pepper to have some crackers.  It wasn’t much, but Pepper was running on fumes.  Peggy knew what it was like.  Pepper was used to taking charge.  She managed Stark Enterprises single handedly.  Hell, she’d managed _Tony_ for years, which was definitely more challenging.  She was used to working under pressure and on deadlines.  And being with Tony as long as she had been, Pepper certainly wasn’t immune to her share of heartache and worry.

 

But Peggy also knew that this situation was different.  Because now it wasn’t just about Pepper and Tony.  It was about their son.  And Peggy knew that Pepper’s concerns about the Stark male legacy were not trivial.  Tony needed to be there for his son.  Being Tony Stark’s son would be trial enough all by itself, without also being Tony Stark’s orphaned son.

 

Sharon and Peggy convinced Pepper to rest on the couch in one of the labs only a couple of doors down from where Tony was.  Peggy doubted Pepper would actually sleep, but maybe the quiet and dark would do her some good.

 

In search of an update, Peggy and Sharon went back to the observation room.  Barton stood at the glass, the silent sentry.  Peggy was not surprised to see Natasha was back, propped up on a nearby couch, hand heavily bandaged and elevated.  She seemed to be concentrating on blinking.

 

Steve and Banner were at the back of the room, sitting, talking in hushed tones.  “What’s the prognosis?” Peggy asked, taking a seat next to Steve.  He looked awful.  He shook his head.  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Peggy demanded.

 

Banner sighed.  “They’re keeping him as comfortable as they can.”

 

“They’re giving up?” Sharon said, aghast.

 

Steve and Banner both winced.  “There’s nothing more they can do,” Banner said grimly.  “Tony’s hanging in there, but his internal organs are shutting down.  It’s only a matter of time.”

 

Peggy blinked back tears.  “Pepper’s pregnant,” she said quietly.  “With a boy.  She said they got married, very quietly, several weeks ago.  They’d been trying for years for a baby.”

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Banner said, leaning forward, cradling his head in his hands.  He groaned.  “I knew something was up.”

 

“We can’t do this,” Peggy said firmly.  “We can’t leave Pepper to do this by herself.  We have to figure out some way to save Tony.”

 

“There’s nothing to figure out,” Banner snapped in frustration.  He caught himself and gave her an apologetic glance.  “We have the most cutting edge medical interventions in the world at our disposal and the truth of the matter is that Tony’s done too much damage to himself.  He can’t recover.  There are limits to what the human body can endure.”

 

“What about Thor?” Peggy demanded.  “Surely Asgard  has something that could fix this.”

 

“He’s not answering,” Steve said grimly.

 

“Why not?” Peggy asked.

 

“Probably because he doesn’t want to have to tell us no,” Banner said quietly.

 

Peggy shook her head, wanting to scream in frustration.  “What about you?” she said to Dr. Banner.  “What about Steve?  Both of you have remarkable regenerative capacities.  Can’t - “ she growled in frustration.  “I don’t know, can’t something be done to confer some of that capacity to Tony?  I remember Howard going on about Steve’s blood potentially holding a cure for polio before I punched him in the face.”

 

Banner arched an eyebrow at her, but then shook his head.  “First off, if it was possible to transfer Steve’s abilities, then I wouldn't be here.  Steve’s abilities are inherent to him and him alone.  They don’t scale at all.  And me ...” he shook his head.  “Even if I could share some of my regenerative capacity, the downside of it is too great.  I wouldn’t risk it.”

 

“Not even for Tony’s life?” Peggy demanded.

 

“Not even for Tony’s life,” Banner said firmly.

 

Peggy sighed.  “Fine.”  She looked around the room, mentally grasping.  “What about me?”

 

Bruce shook his head.  “What about you?  Tony’s problem isn’t that he’s getting old.  Just the opposite.”

 

“Lack of aging isn't my only enhancement,” Peggy said.  “I’m - “ she stopped, not even knowing how to phrase it.  She took a deep breath.  “I endure.  That’s all I do.  I ... live.  Even when I don’t want to.”

 

Banner’s brow furrowed and he looked at Steve, who slowly nodded.  “It’s true,” Steve said.  “How did Howard put it?   _She isn’t strong or fast, but she can go the distance_.  She doesn’t have my healing factor, but she is incredibly resilient.  Thankfully.”

 

Banner seemed to consider it for a moment and then shook his head.  “You’re from the same parent project as Steve, it’s not going to work.”

 

“The same initial research perhaps,” Peggy acknowledged, “but vastly different applications and vastly different outcomes.”  Banner shook his head again.  “At least look, _goddammit!_ ” Peggy yelled.  “Unless you’re too busy with something else.”

 

* * *

 

“Helen, look at this and tell me what you see,” Banner said to Dr. Cho.

 

Peggy watched as Dr. Banner and Dr. Cho conferred over the data.  Steve sat at her side, expression grim.  He still hadn’t shaved and he had a certain rugged appeal, though under the circumstances she wasn’t exactly compelled to do anything about it.  She doubted she was looking spectacular herself.  She was still covered in dust from earlier, wearing Steve’s t-shirt and her yoga pants.  She leaned against him and he twined his fingers through hers.  He was looking at the cottonball taped to the inside of her arm.

 

Dr. Banner crossed the room to stand in front of them.  “I’ve got good news and bad news,” he said.  “The good news is, your abilities aren’t like Steve’s.  His genetics were affected at the most fundamental level.  Everything about the way his body functions was changed by the serum.  You,” he said, pointing at Peggy, “got a much less refined formulation.   _Way_ clunkier.”

 

“Is that the bad news?” Peggy asked.

 

“Nope,” Banner said.  “That’s the good news.  You have cells, comparable to white blood cells, that seem to control your regenerative capabilities.  And in our initial testing, they’re not specific to you.  In theory, we could give them to anyone and they would do what they’re supposed to do.”

 

“So what’s the bad news?” Steve asked.

 

“Did you hear me say _theory_ in that last sentence?” Banner said.  He sighed.  “Also, we would need a lot of these cells.  Your body produces the cells.  Simply giving them to someone else isn’t going to give them the ability to self-generate them.  But they can benefit from the effects, at least until the initial cell load is depleted.”

 

“How many cells would Tony need?” Peggy asked.

 

“A lot,” Bruce repeated grimly.  “Given the damage Tony has already sustained, we’d probably need everything you have.  And while it looks like we might be able to replicate this in a lab setting, we don’t have time.”  He frowned.  “There are risks, to both you and Tony.”

 

Dr. Cho called Banner and he walked back over to her, conferring quietly.  

 

“I don’t like this,” Steve said quietly.

 

“We don’t even know what the risks are yet,” she said.

 

His expression was grim.  “I’m serious, Peggy.”

 

She looked away.  “I can’t stand by and do nothing,” she said.

 

He sighed, gripping her hand tighter.

 

END CHAPTER


	31. Total Cost of Ownership - Pt. 2

Peggy splashed water on her face and looked at herself in the mirror.  Unsurprisingly, she looked like shit.  She frowned and patted her face dry with a towel.  She and Steve were in one of the guest suites, to talk through the options Dr. Banner and Dr. Cho presented to them.  Peggy was taking the opportunity to clean up a little, mostly trying to get some breathing room.

 

Tossing the towel down on the counter she turned, walking through the bedroom and back out to the living room space where Steve waited.  He turned to her, but before he could speak, there was a sound at the door.  Sharon pushed open the door to the guest suite, looking at Peggy and Steve.  “What’s up?”

 

Peggy turned and stared dumbly at Steve.  “You called her and didn’t tell me?” she asked, incredulously.

 

He sighed and put his hands on his hips.  “This concerns _our family_.”

 

Peggy just stared at him.  She understood that this was a family matter.  And Peggy wasn’t mad that he’d called Sharon, just that he’d done it without mentioning it to her.  She felt a bit blindsided, though that seemed to be the theme lately.  Taking a deep breath, she tried to remind herself that Steve was worried.  And his actions were rooted in concern.

 

Sharon shut the door and stepped into the room, crossing her arms over her chest.  “Someone tell me what’s going on.”

 

“Banner and Dr. Cho think they’ve found a way to isolate Peggy’s regenerative capabilities,” Steve said.  “There are specialized cells that are responsible for her ability to heal.  They think they can use them to save Tony.”

 

Sharon’s brow furrowed.  “Like a transfusion?”

 

“I don’t even know,” Steve said, rubbing his forehead.  “There are some significant risks for both Peggy and Tony.”

 

Sharon stepped closer, looking at Peggy.  “What risks?”

 

“The timeline first and foremost,” Peggy said.  “There is no time to fully test anything.  They have some promising data and they’re making a lot of logical leaps.  We won’t know if it will work or not until we’re fully committed.”

 

“Define ‘ _fully committed_ ’,” Sharon said seriously.  

 

“Taking nearly all the regenerative cells she has,” Steve said quietly.  “There is a possibility that if they deplete Peggy’s reserves too far, she might not be able to replace them fast enough.  They have no idea what would happen.  It might mean that she’ll start aging at a normal rate and lose her enhanced healing.”  He sighed.  “They also think it might kill her.  Or that she’ll start accelerated aging.”

 

“Or it could do nothing adverse to me at all,” Peggy said.  She shrugged.  “And there’s also the possibility that it won’t help Tony.”

 

“That’s _a lot_ of speculation,” Sharon said tightly.

 

“There isn’t time for rigorous testing,” Peggy said quietly.  “Tony’s dying.  Quickly.”

 

“Yeah,” Sharon said, “and not to be an asshole, but he’s sorta earned it.”

 

“That’s true,” Peggy said seriously.  “But Pepper hasn’t earned it.  Their son hasn’t earned it.”  

 

Peggy took a deep breath and looked from Steve to Sharon.  They wore matching expressions of concern and fear that alternatively warmed her heart, and made her want to scream.  Never before, in her life, had Peggy been accountable on this level to other people.  No one, not even Daniel, had ever had a say in how she lived her life, in what she chose to do with her body.  Peggy had respected Daniel’s opinion, and she took care with their relationship, but it wasn't _this_.  It wasn’t standing in front of her partner and her child, trying to convince them to agree to her doing something that was perfectly within her rights.

 

Peggy got it.  She did.  She had a family.  She had to take them into consideration.  Her life wasn’t solely about her and what she wanted and needed.  

 

But through bizarre circumstances, Peggy felt she’d been handed a chance to spare Pepper and her unborn child the fate that Peggy and Sharon had suffered.  Peggy had a chance to make amends.  

 

She could redeem herself.

 

But what value would redemption hold if she wounded Steve and Sharon in the process?

 

Peggy shook her head, carefully considering her words.  “I _was_ Pepper,” she said quietly.  “I know what it’s like to be facing a life like that, _alone_.  I can’t do that to her, not if I have the ability to help.”

 

Sharon frowned, but Steve shook his head,  “Pepper isn’t you, Peggy,” he said, his frustration and fear clear on his features.  “She’s forty, not twenty-five.  She the CEO of the single largest industrial conglomerate on the planet.  She isn’t worried about where her next paycheck is coming from, or how she’s going to protect her son.  She has resources, that you couldn’t have dreamed of, at her disposal.”

 

Peggy nodded.  “She does,” she said.  “But she’ll still have to do it alone.”

 

Steve closed his eyes, his guilt clear.  It wasn’t Peggy’s intention to make him feel guilty.  But she wasn’t going to sugar coat her truth to spare his feelings.

 

Sharon stepped closer.  “So after everything we’ve been through, you’d risk leaving _us_ alone to save Tony and Pepper,” she said.  Her words were quiet and her eyes were shiny.

 

Peggy looked from Steve to Sharon, her expression soft.  “I swear,” she said quietly, “I have absolutely no intention of leaving you.  None.”  She shook her head, pacing the room.  “You remember how Howard described me ... cutting myself,” she said carefully.  “I did.  And I didn’t do it halfway.  I bled out.  And I lived.  And I was just as impossible to kill afterward as I had been before.  They’re not talking about bleeding me dry.  They’re talking about targeting certain cells.”  

 

Peggy looked at Steve, pleading.  “You know your limits and I know mine.  Trust me, I’ve tested the hell out of them.  I can do this.  I need to do this.  If there’s any chance it can help Tony, I’ve got to try.”

 

Steve closed his eyes and shook his head.  When he opened his eyes, they were glassy.  “It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours, Peggy,” he said quietly.  

 

Peggy flinched like she’d been slapped.  

 

“Twenty-four hours since what?” Sharon asked carefully.

 

Steve shook his head, waving her off.  “I understand that you want to make this right, Peggy, but I can’t say that I have a lot of faith in your ability to assess your limits right now.”

 

Peggy blinked back tears.  “So you’re willing to risk Tony’s life because of my mistakes?”

 

“No,” he said quietly.  “I’m _not_ willing to risk _yours_.”

 

Peggy took a deep breath and blew it out.  She looked over at Steve and Sharon and realized this was it.  She was going to have to chose between her need to fix things and her relationship with the man she loved and the child she abandoned.  

 

Peggy found that as much as she needed to save Pepper ... she couldn’t do it.  She couldn’t help Pepper at the cost of hurting Steve and Sharon more than she already had.  “Okay,” she said quietly, a tear tracking down her cheek as she wrapped her arms around her middle.  “Okay.  If you two are set against it, I won’t do it.”

 

Steve reached out and pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her.  She rested her head against his chest, feeling utterly defeated.

 

“Goddammit,” Sharon cursed under her breath.  She looked at Steve and Peggy like she fully expected to regret the words she words she was going to say.  “So, not for nothing, but I spent years researching Margaret and Bucky’s blood work and they’re really, really similar.”

 

Steve and Peggy both looked at her.  Sharon smiled tightly.  “Margaret, you’re not the only one who received Zola’s serum.  I understand there are risks, but maybe we can mitigate them if we can reduce the amount that you need to contribute.  If Bucky can be used as well, then it’s half the risk to both of you.”  She shrugged.  “Tony’s still screwed, but he’s screwed regardless.  Hell,” she said, “maybe I can chip in.”

 

Peggy pulled back from Steve and looked at him.  He didn’t say anything, but Peggy could tell he was seriously considering the idea.

 

“Of course,” Sharon added, “There’s the minor complication where Tony wants Bucky dead.”

 

“Tony’s busy right now,” Peggy said.  “And I suspect if you ask Pepper if she minds if Bucky donates a treatment for Tony, she’ll be fine with it.”  She looked at Steve.  “It might be the peace offering Bucky needs to be able to get some semblance of a life back.”

 

Steve walked over to Sharon and wrapped her in a tight hug, pressing a loud, smacking kiss to her temple.

 

* * *

 

Sharon and Sam immediately left to talk to Bucky, who had managed not to meet with disaster while being left alone for several hours.  After speaking briefly on the phone with both Peggy and Steve, Bucky agreed to help.  Peggy figured probably because he was bored and wanted to see the inside of Avengers Tower.  Not that she really cared what his motivation was.  He was probably hungry too.

 

While Sharon and Sam were bringing Bucky in, Steve explained to the rest of the team what was happening.  All of them seemed pretty pissed at Steve for keeping Bucky a secret, especially Natasha, who was still half out of it from her surgery.  Peggy knew Steve was going to have some groveling to do there, to try and fix that friendship.  But everyone else agreed that if Bucky could help, then they could deal with everything else later.  Fury insisted on extra security while Bucky was in the building and Steve didn’t argue.

 

Eventually, Peggy and Bucky were sitting side by side on a gurney, and Bucky now had a band-aid in the crease of his elbow to match Peggy’s.  Sharon was sitting in a chair nearby, also with a matching band-aid.  Next to Sharon, Steve was standing there looking like a wet cat.  Peggy knew he was worried about pretty much everyone.  And worst of all, from his perspective, he couldn’t do a damn thing to help any of them.  

 

Banner and Dr. Cho were shuffling between various instruments, analyzing samples.  Barton was perched on a counter in the corner and Hill was pacing the length of the room.  Pepper, mercifully, was asleep in the observation room near Tony, with Happy keeping an eye on her.

 

Bucky looked over at Peggy.  “We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

 

“At least they didn’t handcuff us to the table this time,” Peggy said.

 

“Don’t talk about our date in front of Steve,” Bucky said, sotto voce.

 

“Asshole,” she muttered, shaking her head.

 

He stuck out his tongue and made a half-hearted attempt to lick her face, but she smacked him away.

 

Banner looked at them incredulously.  “This is the Soviet master assassin Tony’s been trying to hunt down?”

 

“Winter Soldier at your service,” Bucky said dryly.

 

“I have some pictures on my phone of him with his arms wrapped in plastic while Sharon and I deloused him in the shower.  You know, in case you need something for the file,” Peggy offered.

 

“It’s _every bit_ as kinky as it sounds,” Bucky said with a wink.

 

Banner just shrugged and shook his head.  “So,” he said, “inappropriate humor is a fairly typical response to fear.”

 

Peggy half expected Steve to throw a chair through a window.  Inappropriate humor was definitely not his response to fear.  And she knew he was afraid.  And probably ready to throttle both of them right now.  She didn’t dare look in his direction.

 

Banner cleared his throat.  “Sharon’s a no go.  Her blood work has some of the same markers as you and Barnes, but on the whole it’s more like Steve’s.  There isn’t anything we can work with.”  

 

Steve put a hand on Sharon’s shoulder and Peggy wasn’t sure if he was upset or relieved.  Maybe he didn’t know either.  

 

“Looking at Barnes’ samples though,” Banner continued.  “Yeah.  You two clearly got the same batch.”  He nodded, smiling tightly.  “It should work.”

 

Peggy and Bucky both sobered, looking at each other.  He held out his hand and Peggy took it.

 

“I need to go have a final word with Pepper,” Banner said, “but Helen’s team will get you both prepped.”

 

* * *

 

 

For all the drama leading up to it, the actual cell extraction was incredibly boring.  It was very late - or very early, depending your perspective -  and even with the tense atmosphere, the Tower was mostly dark and quiet.  Peggy and Bucky lay on gurneys next to each other, while something that looked a lot like a dialysis machine took blood out of their bodies, spun it through a centrifuge, before returning most of the blood.  Every quarter hour or so, someone would come in and take the vials, swapping them out for empty ones.

 

Peggy rolled onto her side, curling up and Steve took a seat at the end of the gurney, his hand resting on her calf.  She was pretty sure Bucky was asleep.  She wondered if Fury was disappointed that his extra security didn’t have anything to do.

 

It was probably half an hour later, and Peggy had fallen asleep too, when Dr. Cho and several assistants returned and shut down the machines.  She removed several vials of thin, watery fluid, handing them off to an assistant who immediately headed toward the infirmary.  “This is the last of it,” Dr. Cho said.  Another assistant removed the IVs, leaving Peggy with yet more bandages on her arm.

 

“How’s Tony?” Steve asked.

 

“It’s too early to tell,” Dr. Cho said.  “The good news is he hasn’t had any negative reaction so far.”

 

Steve sighed, obviously hoping for better news.  “Can she go somewhere and grab some shuteye?”

 

Dr. Cho nodded.  “Yes, but don’t go far,” she said.  “We’ll still need to monitor them both carefully.”

 

“I’m taking her to the guest quarters,” Steve said.  He looked over at Bucky, who was out cold.  “I’m leaving him here,” he said.  “I’ll let Fury know.”

 

* * *

 

 

Peggy didn’t think she had ever been so exhausted in her life.  The last couple days were an absolute blur.  She leaned heavily against Steve as he swiped open the same guest suite they’d used earlier.  Neither of them bothered to change, they just kicked off their shoes and fell into bed.  Steve pulled the blankets around them both, spooning against Peggy’s back.

  
  


END CHAPTER


	32. Total Cost of Ownership - Pt. 3

Peggy winced as the technician removed the needle and capped the vial of blood.  She remembered Bucky’s comment about feeling like a pincushion.  She knew exactly what he meant.  It was early morning.  The sun was barely peeking over the horizon, which meant she hadn’t gotten much sleep.  But it was better than none.  Steve was leaning against the wall, watching.  Peggy was still lying in bed.

 

“How’s Tony doing?” Steve asked the technician.

 

She nodded.  “He’s awake.”

 

Peggy sat up.  Steve pushed off the wall and held a hand out to her, helping her stand up.  Peggy didn’t bother with shoes as she and Steve quickly made their way to the infirmary.  Barton was standing at the window, watching, and Peggy knew he’d stood guard all night.  Steve and Peggy went to stand at his side.  Tony still looked terrible and far too gray, but he was awake, watching Pepper.  She was sitting on the edge of his bed, holding one of his hands in both of her, clasped tightly to her face so her lips were pressed against the back of his hand.  Tony was still intubated, so they weren’t talking, but they didn’t take their eyes off each other.

 

Dr. Russo left the infirmary and entered the observation room, with Dr. Cho trailing behind.  “How is he?” Peggy asked.

 

Russo nodded.  “Improving,” he said, “but he’s not out of the woods.  His liver and kidney function have both improved, but he took a hell of a beating.  We’re not even at the point of discussing recovery.  It’s still hour to hour with him.”

 

“The transplanted cells are working,” Dr. Cho said carefully, “but he’s going to need more.”

 

“How much more?” Steve asked, his hand tightening at Peggy’s waist.

 

“As much as they can give,” Dr. Cho said.  “Barnes’ cells seem to regenerate faster, but Peggy’s seem to be higher efficacy.  Dr. Banner and I are still trying to find a way to synthesize them in the lab, but it’s a work in progress.”  She sighed.  “We can stagger the donations.  Probably once every twelve hours.”

 

Steve’s expression was tight and Peggy leaned into him, wrapping her arm around his waist.

 

“All of Peggy’s and Barnes’ vitals and labs look great,” Dr. Cho said.  “I promise, if we notice anything adverse, we’ll notify everyone immediately.”  Dr. Russo and Dr. Cho returned to the infirmary.  

 

Peggy took Steve’s hand.  “Come on.  I need food and a nap before they poke more holes in me.”

 

* * *

 

 

Peggy woke up and checked the time.  It was early afternoon.  Steve was asleep, face down on the mattress, sprawled out like a starfish.  Peggy watched him for a little while, marveling at how terribly ordinary he looked with his scruff and messy hair, dead to the world.  She leaned over and pressed a hard kiss to his cheek.  He mumbled something and then ground his teeth together before falling back into a deep sleep.

 

Peggy pushed herself out of bed and walked out into the suite’s living room.  JARVIS had dimmed the windows against the daylight and Peggy was oddly reminded of that long ago day in Dubai when she’d first realized Steve was alive.  It seemed like a million years ago.

 

There was a bag sitting on the counter in the small kitchen.  Sharon had brought it from the apartment when she and Sam went to get Bucky the previous night.  Picking it up, Peggy headed into the bathroom to shower and brush her teeth.  She wadded up Steve’s shirt and the yoga pants, gladly changing them out for a loose black t-shirt and a pair of well worn jeans.  

 

Clean and slightly more awake, Peggy was making coffee when JARVIS informed her that Sharon and one of the lab technicians were at the door.  Peggy wasn’t shocked to see that the technician came prepared to collect more cells.  Stopping to pull the bedroom door shut, Peggy directed the technician to set up in the living room.  

 

Half an hour later, Peggy was sitting on the couch looking at the tubing that was carrying her blood to the extraction machine.  She did appreciate that the process was as low impact as Dr. Banner and Dr. Cho could make it.  They were trying to take only what they needed and return everything else to her.  But damn it was slow going because of it.

 

“What’d I miss while I was asleep?” Peggy asked Sharon.

 

“Not a lot,” she said, taking a drink of her coffee.  “Natasha had a complication with her hand and Russo forced her to lay down.  Bucky’s irritating the hell out of pretty much everyone but Pepper.  Go figure.”  

 

“He’s usually only awful if he knows you can take it,” Peggy said absently.  She looked at Sharon.  “How is Pepper doing?”

 

Sharon frowned.  “She’s hanging in there, but it’s rough.  Tony’s improving, but I think the damage was worse than anyone realized.  In addition to liver and kidney, they think there was brain damage as well.  Russo was finally talking about recovery a while ago.  He mentioned Tony will probably need intensive physical therapy to learn how to walk again.  Nevermind all the fine motor stuff.  He didn’t mention that at all, which I didn’t take to be a good sign.”

 

“That bad?” Peggy said, cursing under her breath.  

 

“Banner and Cho are still holding out hope for this treatment.  They think it can reverse a lot of the initial damage.  Russo’s preparing for the worst.”

 

Peggy shook her head.  The idea of Tony surviving, but being permanently impaired was ... awful.  She was sure that if Pepper had the choice, she would take a live Tony over a dead one.  But the idea of a Tony Stark who couldn’t _be_ Tony Stark was depressing as fuck.

 

She sighed and looked over at Sharon, who looked exhausted.  “Thank you,” Peggy said quietly, “for offering to help.”

 

Sharon shrugged.  “Least I could do.  I’m just sorry I wasn’t any help.”

 

“Blame your father and his superior genetics,” Peggy said dryly.

 

Sharon snorted into her coffee.  They sat there for several minutes without speaking, the only noise the whirring of the extraction machine.

 

“So what was Steve talking about last night?” Sharon asked.  “What happened that made him think you couldn’t assess your limits?”

 

Peggy looked down into her coffee and frowned.  “I made a pass at Bucky,” she said bluntly.  “A very poorly executed seduction that went absolutely nowhere.  And Steve saw pretty much all of it, I think.”  She looked over at Sharon, waiting.  

 

Sharon didn’t say anything.

 

Peggy continued, “Bucky told me that Steve would forgive me, but that you wouldn’t.  He told me he wasn’t going to help me throw my life away.”

 

“Is that what you were trying to do?” Sharon asked evenly.  “Throw your life away?”

 

Peggy sighed.  “I don’t know,” she said honestly.  “I know that sometimes I need to try and take control by doing something.  Even if that something is completely self-destructive.”  She shook her head, hating herself.  “It had been a long time since I resorted to those behaviors.  I really didn’t think I was capable of hurting Steve like that.  It wasn’t a reassuring thing to learn about myself.”

 

Sharon was quiet for a long time, but Peggy waited.  

 

“For all his surprising insight into the human condition,” Sharon said, “I don’t think Bucky is an authority on what I will and will not forgive.  Or even what I have a right to weigh in on.”

 

Peggy considered her words, but wasn’t willing to read too much into them.

 

After another long pause, Sharon finally said, “Is that ... I mean, the things Howard described on the tape, is that what those were?  You trying to take control?”

 

Peggy shrugged.  “The suicide attempts?” she asked bluntly.  Best to call them what they were.  “I don’t know.  Maybe.  I can’t say they were terribly sane decisions.”  She shook her head.  “That first time.  With the pills and the bag.  It took me weeks to plan that, to get the dosages and timing down.  But once I finally had a plan ...”  She took a deep breath, looking down at her coffee mug.  “There was such a sense of ... _relief_.  There was finally going to be an end.”  She blinked quickly and looked over at Sharon, who was just watching her.

 

“But it didn’t work,” Sharon said.

 

“No,” Peggy said, shaking her head.  “It didn’t work.”  She smiled tightly, looking at Sharon.  “In hindsight, I’m actually really thrilled about that.”  She sighed.  “But at the time, it felt like another punishment.”

 

Sharon’s brow furrowed.  “Punishment for what?  You did everything right.”

 

“For giving you away,” Peggy said quietly.  She arched an eyebrow.  “And for failing Steve.  But mostly for you.”

 

Sharon frowned and shook her head, but didn’t say anything.

 

“What was it like, for you?” Peggy asked.  “Growing up?”  She frowned.  “All these years and I’ve never asked you.  I’ve never had the courage to ask you.”

 

Sharon blinked in confusion.  “I, uh,” she started and then fell silent.  She took a deep breath.  “It was good, when I was little.  When my adoptive mother, Sarah, was alive.  I remember being happy, being cared for.”

 

“Did you know that you were adopted?” Peggy asked.  

 

Sharon frowned.  “I don’t have any memory of being told.  But it was probably after Sarah died.”  She cleared her throat.  “My adoptive father didn’t make any secret, after she died, of the fact that I wasn’t his and he hadn’t wanted me.  He saw me as a burden.”

 

Peggy nodded and blinked back tears.  “I thought about bringing you to live with me,” she said quietly, “after she died.  I gave it a lot of thought.”  She shook her head, frowning.  “After Mr. Jarvis and I were nearly killed in an assassination attempt, I finally decided you were safer where you were.”

 

“Based on what Howard said, that was probably true,” Sharon replied blandly.

 

Peggy looked at her in shock.  “Do you really believe that?  Knowing what you know now?”

 

Sharon shrugged.  “I made it out,” she said flatly.  “Nobody cut me into little pieces.”  She took a deep breath, looking at Peggy.  “I was ... unfair ... the other day when we were talking about our mutual history.  I  took some cheap shots, ones I’d been saving for decades.”  She shook her head.  “Like I said, hurting you doesn’t make me feel better.  It just hurts. Especially now.”

 

“You’re entitled to your feelings,” Peggy said.

 

“I know, Margaret,” Sharon said firmly.  “I know I’m entitled to my feelings.  But I’m not seventeen anymore.  And at some point, I am just too old for this shit.  So yeah, big chunks of my childhood were awful.  My adoptive father was a brute and a bully.  But mostly he was negligent.  He left me the hell alone.  I was a difficult child, always getting into trouble, caused him no end of grief.  I was always sure to give as good as I got.”  She sighed.  “I was so angry, for so many years.  And I didn’t even know why.  I aimed that rage at anyone and anything I could.  And when I met you, you were the perfect target.”

 

Peggy laughed mirthlessly.  “I certainly made it easy.”

 

“I hated you,” Sharon said.  “I hated you so much.  You made everything look so fucking effortless.  You were so smart and beautiful and in control.  People listened to you.  They respected you.  They followed your orders without question and you never hesitated.  You were supposed to be my mother and I couldn’t see any similarities at all between us.  I felt like such a disaster, an imposter.  I couldn’t manage to get through a day without shooting myself in the foot.”

 

“Yeah, well, you get that from me,” Peggy said dryly.

 

Sharon snorted.  “Yeah.  I know that _now_.”

 

They were interrupted as the technician returned.  She removed the last of the vials and bandaged Peggy’s arm.  Sharon helped the technician pack everything up and then she and Peggy saw the woman to the door.  The suite was shockingly quiet without the machine’s drone.

 

Peggy looked at Sharon, lips pursed together as they stood near the door.  “I love you,” Peggy said.  “Do you know that?  I’ve _always_ loved you, even when I was terrible at showing it.  You were the only thing in my life that mattered for decades.”

 

Sharon blinked quickly.  She didn’t speak, eyes screwed tightly shut.  She frowned and looked at Peggy.  “I didn’t know that,” she said in a near whisper.

 

Peggy blinked quickly, aware of the tears on her cheeks.  I love you,” she said.  “More than anything.  Even when I was awful to you, I loved  you.  I think I was trying to spare you from me.”

 

Sharon was obviously fighting for composure.  Slowly, she reached out and hugged Peggy.  

 

Peggy wrapped her arms around her daughter, holding her close and tight.  Probably too tight.  But Sharon could take it.  “I’m sorry,” Peggy said quietly.  “I’m sorry for doing this to both of us.”

 

* * *

 

“Is Steve okay?” Sharon asked later, over a fresh cup of coffee.  “After the other night, I mean?”

 

Peggy shrugged.  “I think so.  I don’t know.”  She looked down, toying with the hem of her shirt as she sat on the couch.  “I made the decision to betray him.  I didn’t, since Bucky refused to cooperate.  But I’m still accountable for my actions.  I don’t know what Steve’s going to do.  As far as I know, he’s still planning to move in permanently.”

 

“Is that what you want?” Sharon asked carefully.

 

Peggy considered her question and said, “I honestly cannot imagine my life without him at this point.”  She looked at Sharon.  “I don’t want to imagine my life without him, despite how it might look sometimes.”

 

Sharon nodded.  “When I was a kid, I did that thing that I think most adopted kids do.  I fell into the trap of imagining what my 'real' family was like.”  She looked over at Peggy.  “I didn’t imagine this.”

 

“Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition, Sharon,” Peggy said dryly.

 

Sharon laughed.  “No, I mean that in a ... mostly good sort of way.”  She looked over at Peggy.  “Don’t get me wrong, you two are a couple of shitshows.  But it could be worse.”

 

“If I were still drinking, I’d toast to realistic expectations,” Peggy said with a wry smile.  She looked at Sharon.  “What’s going on with you and Sam?”

 

Sharon arched an eyebrow.  “Not a lot,” she said.  “We’re friends.”

 

“What kind of friends?” Peggy pressed.

 

“Margaret, I’m not sleeping with Sam,” Sharon said, frowning.

 

“I wasn’t - “  
  


“You were.”

 

Peggy sighed.  “I was.”  She looked at Sharon again.  “So why aren’t you sleeping with him?”

 

“Because I’m not you,” Sharon said pointedly.  “I like to get to know someone by getting to know them.  Not by banging them in a stairwell.”

 

Peggy looked at Sharon for a long moment.  “Oh, God,” she groaned, covering her eyes with her hand.

 

“Tony got the video,” Sharon said.  “Sam told me.”

 

Peggy leaned forward, curling in on herself.  “Steve’s going to kill me.”

 

“Well, according to Sam, he was an enthusiastic participant, so he can probably just suck it up and deal with consequences in the digital age,” Sharon said dryly.  She looked at Peggy and added, “You two are _so_ gross.  And deeply embarrassing.”

 

* * *

 

“ _Video_?  What the hell do you mean there’s video?” Steve demanded.  He was dripping wet, towel barely wrapped around his hips as he glared at Peggy.  

 

She thought that perhaps, breaking the news to him while he was busy doing something else, like taking a shower, might lessen the impact.  Or at the very least, he wouldn’t hear her over the drone of the water.  She’d been wrong.  “Tony got the video,” she said.  “Before they could sell it to TMZ.  It’s from the security cameras in my building’s stairwell.  Tony threatened them with copyright infringement since he technically owns the rights to Captain America’s digital likeness.”

 

Steve angrily tucked the towel at his hips.  “How did you find out?”

 

She pursed her lips together.

 

“ _Peggy_.”

 

“Sharon told me.  She said Sam told her.”

 

Steve opened his mouth and then shut it again, frowning.  “Sharon and Sam know about the video ...”

 

“Sharon _knows_ about the video,” Peggy said carefully.  Then she added, “I’m pretty sure Sam _saw_ the video.”

 

Shaking his head, Steve turned and stalked back into the bathroom.

  
“Tony’s doing better,” Peggy yelled.

 

All she heard in reply was indistinct cursing.

 

* * *

 

Steve was still irritated and Peggy wondered if the last couple of days were finally going to be enough to push him over the edge.  He was always so good at keeping it together, but with everything lately, Captain America had definitely been stretched to his limits.  Physically, he looked better.  The sleep had done him well.  He finally shaved and changed into clean clothes.  But the strain was evident around his eyes and in the set of his jaw.  He held Peggy’s hand clasped tightly in his own as they took the elevator up to the infirmary.

 

She leaned into him and he automatically wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.  He kissed the top of her head.

 

As soon as the elevator doors opened, Bucky said, “In the stairwell, Carter.”

 

“I didn’t do it by myself,” Peggy countered sourly, pulling Steve along.  She gave Bucky a warning glance and shook her head.  He seemed to take the hint and let it drop.

 

Steve and Peggy walked to the observation room.  Barton was notably absent, though Natasha was back.  She looked worse than she had yesterday, but she was keeping watch.  Inside the infirmary, Pepper was sitting with Tony.  He was awake, alert.  He’d been extubated, but he didn’t appear to be speaking.  He still looked bad, but not nearly so gray.

 

Dr. Banner walked into the observation room and gave Peggy and Steve a tight smile.  “He’s improving,” he said.  “Reflexes, motor skills, they’re all getting better.  Along with his organ function.  The cells are doing what we hoped.  He’ll live.  It’s his recovery, now, that’s the question, but even that’s looking up.”

 

“How long are Peggy and Bucky going to need to keep donating?” Steve asked.

 

“Another couple of rounds would be ideal, provided nothing changes with their vitals,” Banner said.  “But Tony’s latest labs are really encouraging.  Even when the cell load starts to deplete, we’re not seeing any backsliding.  Any improvements he makes seem to stick and he’s starting to make some progress on his own too.”

 

“Any luck with synthesizing the cells in the lab?” Steve asked.

 

Banner frowned and shook his head.  “Not so far,” he said.  “We’re still trying though.”

 

Dr. Banner left and for a long time, Steve and Peggy just stood there with Natasha, watching.  Pepper looked tired, but clearly better than she had been.  Peggy was sure it would be days, if not weeks, before the magnitude of the situation really hit her.  Hopefully Tony would be recovered enough at that point to offer support.

 

Peggy leaned into Steve.  “Let’s get out of here for a while,” she said. “Go get something to eat.”

 

He nodded.  They stopped to see if Bucky wanted to go, but he waved them off saying he was up to be stuck full of holes within the hour.

 

* * *

 

The restaurant was small.  It was the dinner rush, so it wasn’t quiet.  Peggy saw a couple of people surreptitiously snap pictures of Steve, but nobody actually bothered them, so she pretended not to notice.  She’d gone online, after Sharon’s news about the video, to see what was out there.  Steve typically didn’t warrant a lot of media coverage.  He was handsome and single, so there was that draw.  But unlike Tony, he didn’t seek out the media.  And up until recently, his life had been so solitary and professional that few of the news outlets had much interest in him.  

 

Peggy had seen some dim cell phone pictures of the two of them together from their first date at the tapas place.  Another of them getting into a cab.  There was some speculation as to who she was, but it certainly wasn’t a frenzy.  And hopefully, if Tony could keep that video out of the media, it wouldn’t be.

 

They ate, talking quietly.  Steve was still upset, she knew.  She knew he had more than enough reasons to be upset.  She also suspected that his relief was part of the issue.  It looked like Tony was going to be okay.  It looked like she and Bucky were going to be okay.  Bucky’s life, somehow, was more on track than ever thanks to the tragic accident.  Somehow, she and Sharon were actually getting along.  Steve no longer had to spend every waking minute trying to hold everything together.  So now he had the luxury of being pissed off.  Not that he was being a jerk.  He wasn’t.  It was just that there was a distance.

 

After dinner, they walked aimlessly, hand in hand.  Peggy looked over at him, at the grim set of his jaw.  She wouldn’t blame him one bit if he decided to leave her.  She wasn’t even sure she’d try and talk him out of it.  Though it would kill a part of her if he did leave.

 

“I told Sharon,” Peggy said quietly.  He looked over at her in question.  “About ... what I did,” she said.  “With Bucky.”

 

He looked away, frowning.  “What you tried to do.”

 

“No, Steve,” she said.  “What I did.”  She took a deep breath.  “I made a decision.  I thought through a variety of different reactions and I decided to try and cheat on you with your best friend.”

 

“We’ve already talked about this,” he said.

 

“Yeah,” she said.  “But I’m not sure we really said very much.”

 

He pursed his lips and her and looked away again.  “What did Sharon say?”

 

“Nothing, really,” Peggy said quietly, “other than that she wasn’t sure she had a right to weigh in on things.  And that we’re gross and so very embarrassing.  But that was in regards to the stairwell footage.”

 

Steve rolled his eyes.  They walked in silence for several more minutes before Peggy slowed to a stop, pulling him with her.  Reluctantly, he stopped and turned to face her, his fingers still threaded with hers.  “What do you want me to say, Peggy?” he asked.

 

“I don’t know,” she said seriously.  “But I know that not saying anything isn’t helping.”

 

“Do you want me to yell at you?” he asked.  “Is that it?  You want me to rage at you and blame you?”

 

She looked at him.  “Do you want to?”

 

He shrugged, pulling his hand loose from hers, setting his hands against his hips.  “No,” he said quietly.  “I don’t.”  He shook his head.  “I want ... my family.  I want to go home, to _our_ home.”  He laughed mirthlessly and shook his head.  “I’ve spent the last several years becoming very accustomed to not getting what I want.  But I’m not willing to do that now.  Not with you.  You’re right, I’m pissed.  Just like I know you’re pissed about me crashing that damn plane.  But it doesn’t change the fact that I’m with you to the end of the line.  So the next time you flip out and decide to try and sleep with Bucky, just do me a favor and ... _don’t_.”

 

“It doesn’t really work like that, Steve,” she said seriously.

 

He looked at her, equally serious.  “It might have to, Peggy.”  He shook his head again.  “I know I fucked things up for you and Sharon,” he said quietly.  “I know.”

 

“Steve - “

 

“I didn’t have a choice,” he said, cutting across her.  “You know that and I know that.  But it doesn’t change things.  I wasn’t there.  And as a consequence, you had to make a lot of decisions that no one should ever have to make.  You didn’t have a choice either.  And we all know that.  But it damaged you.  And it damaged Sharon.  And I ... slept.”

 

He took a deep breath.  “But we’re all here, now, together.  And that’s not for nothing.  So it’s hard.  And we’re going to screw things up.  And we’re going to stumble.  But we’re going to figure this out.   _Together_.”

 

“And if we can’t?” she asked.

 

“Then we’ll fuck it all up together,” he said dryly.  “But I’m not doing it alone and neither are you, or Sharon, or Bucky.”

 

She gave him a watery smile and stepped closer.  “That was some .. foul language, there, Captain.”

 

He frowned at her.  “I’m upset.”

 

She wrapped her arms around him, pressing her face into the crook of his neck.  “Anything I can do to make you feel better?”

 

He laughed and she could feel it more than hear it.  “I can probably think of a few things we can do.  Together.”

 

* * *

 

Peggy wanted to go home, but since her next scheduled donation was at three in the morning, it seemed rather pointless.  She and Steve walked back to the Tower and went directly to the guest suite without checking in with anyone.

 

They didn’t bother turning on the lights and when he reached for her, she curled herself around him, kissing him hard.  They made it into the bedroom, barely.  Steve seemed to be intent on making a point and Peggy was more than happy to acknowledge it.

 

Some hours later, Peggy lay there in the dark.  Steve was dozing, his head pillowed on her abdomen, one arm thrown around her hips.  Her fingers were carding slowly through his hair.  She’d tried to throw this away.  It was a sobering and terrifying thought.  

 

She’d searched her entire life for the right partner.  And she finally found him.

 

END CHAPTER


	33. My Will Is As Strong As Yours

It was just after five in the morning and Peggy couldn’t sleep.  She’d been awake since her last pincushion session finished an hour earlier.  Steve was still asleep.  She reached over, grabbing his shoulder as she leaned down and whispered in his ear, “I’m going to check on Tony.”

 

He mumbled and patted her thigh.

 

Peggy pulled on one of Steve’s t-shirts and a pair of clean leggings before heading for the elevator.  The Tower was quiet.  Technicians were milling around.  Natasha was asleep on the couch in the observation room.  She looked like hell.  Inside the infirmary, Tony’s eyes were closed, but Peggy took a chance and slipped inside.  As she took a seat in the chair next to his bed, he opened his eyes.

 

“Carter,” he said in a hoarse whisper.  His lips were dry and cracked, but his color looked better.

 

“How are you?” she asked.

 

He blinked slowly.  “Better,” he said.  “Guess I have you to thank for that.”

 

She looked at him.  “And James Barnes.”

 

He frowned, but arched an eyebrow.  

 

“Well,” she said, “if it’s any help, rest assured that I did it for Pepper, not for you.”

 

He laughed which sparked a coughing fit.  A nurse rushed into the room and Tony waved him off.  “How is Pepper?” he asked.  “She always puts on a good show for me.”

 

“She’s a wreck,” Peggy said bluntly.  “But she’ll keep it together.  She can survive worse than you, Tony.”

 

He nodded and sighed, closing his eyes for a long moment before opening them again.  “I always thought Rogers was kind of a chump, with his selfless sacrifice,” he said.  “But I got it.  I really got it.”

 

She smiled wryly.  “I’m pretty sure you got it before,” she said.  “I mean, I’ve heard rumors you once carried a nuke through a wormhole.”

 

He rolled his eyes.  “Iron Man saving New York, sure,” he said.  “But Tony Stark laying down on the wire to save one person.  I didn’t get that.  Not until that day.  She was the only thing that mattered.”

 

Peggy nodded, knowing exactly what he meant.  “Congratulations, by the way,” she said.  “Pepper told us about the wedding and the baby.”

 

He nodded solemnly and his eyes were suddenly glassy.  He cleared his throat and blinked quickly.  “Banner and Cho have been giving me a very cliff notes version of events,” he said.  “But from what I gather, if this treatment hadn’t worked, even if they could have saved me, I would have been looking at a life where Pepper was changing my diapers at the same time as the kid’s.”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Peggy said.  “I’m sure Pepper would have hired someone to change your diapers.”

 

He looked at her.  “I’m serious.”

 

“I know,” Peggy said quietly.  “And I was happy to help.  So was Bucky.”

 

Tony sighed, looking away.  “Bucky,” he said tightly.

 

“He’s come a long way,” Peggy said, “even in the short time he’s been with us.  Medication seems to have resolved a lot of his memory issues.  He’s not the man he was during the war, but he’s not a Soviet assassin anymore, Tony.  He deserves a life.”

 

“He deserves a life,” Tony repeated bitterly.  “And what about the lives he took?”

 

“He’s not that thing anymore,” Peggy said quietly. “I don’t know what else to say.  He doesn’t remember it.  Hydra turned him into a weapon, without his consent.”

 

“He killed my parents,” Tony said bluntly.

 

“Maybe,” Peggy said.  “If he did, it wasn’t his call.  He had no choice.  And he doesn’t remember it.”  She took a deep breath.  “He saved your life, Tony.  Of his own free will.  Also, I’m still not convinced that Obadiah Stane wasn’t behind everything that happened to Howard and Maria.”

 

Tony lay there, staring at the far wall.

 

“You owe me a favor,” Peggy said.  “And this is it.  Bucky.  I’m asking you to let him go.  Let him have whatever life he can salvage.”

 

Tony didn’t look at her, but he nodded tightly.

 

Leaning forward, she kissed him on the forehead.  Straightening up, she looked at him again and turned, leaving him to his demons.

 

* * *

 

Steve was still asleep when she got back to the suite and she climbed into bed next to him.  Even unconscious, he turned toward her, reaching out for her.  She let him pull her close, and pressed herself against him.

 

It was after nine when she woke again. She took a quick shower and dressed, finding Steve sitting at the counter, drinking coffee with Sam and Sharon.  

 

“Tony’s decided to call the dogs off Bucky,” Sharon said.  “It sounds like Bucky might be able to have a normal life.”  She paused, frowning.  “Whatever that means to him.”

 

Peggy nodded, pouring herself a cup of coffee.  “I talked to Tony earlier this morning,” she said.  “I told him he owed me and that’s what I wanted.  I told him he owed Bucky too.”  She looked at Sharon.  “What’s Tony’s prognosis?  Have you talked to Banner or Cho?”

 

“They said his labs look really good,” Sharon said.  “Banner said that unless Tony really takes a turn for the worse, they don’t need any more donations from you or Bucky.”

 

“So we can go home?” Peggy said.  “Thank God.”

 

* * *

 

“It’s not that I don’t love you both,” Bucky said.  “It’s just that I’m really fucking sick of looking at your stupid faces.”

 

“Jerk,” Steve said, pushing the button for the elevator.

 

The doors opened and Bucky walked in first, leaning back against the wall.  He crossed his arms over his chest.  “Can I still have your place, Carter?”

 

She arched an eye at him.  “You can stay there.  Temporarily.  Until you get a job.”

 

“A job,” Bucky groaned, letting his head smack back against the wall.  “The only thing I’ve ever been really good at is killing people.”

 

“Have you ever tried anything else?” Peggy asked.

 

He looked at her.  “Not really,” he said.  “Unless you count washing dishes in my aunt’s restaurant.”

 

“Okay, so let’s shoot a little higher than dishwasher,” Peggy said dryly.  She looked at him, frowning.  “I can make a few calls.  I know people who always need people.”

 

“To kill people?” Bucky asked brightly.

 

“No,” she said.  “But they need highly trained muscle.”  She paused.  “Be warned, that if you burn these bridges, you will be washing dishes again.  And with your metal hand, good luck.”

 

Bucky considered and nodded.  “Does Agent May need people?”

 

“She doesn’t need you,” Peggy said darkly.

 

* * *

 

Peggy looked at the half full duffle bag sitting in the middle of the bed in Steve’s apartment in Brooklyn.  After leaving the Tower, she, Steve and Bucky went to Peggy’s place and picked up the car.  She and Steve dropped Bucky at her loft and then headed on to his apartment in Brooklyn.  It wasn’t the highest priority trip, but Steve wanted to clear out the rest of his things and be done with the place.  And they both needed something mindless to occupy their time.  Packing fit the bill.  

 

So they were in Brooklyn, in the process of loading up Steve’s meager possessions.  Peggy hadn’t expected him to have a lot of things, but the tiny space was shockingly spartan.  Quite a bit of his clothes and toiletries were already over at her place, brought over piecemeal.  And most everything related to his work was at the Tower.  She guessed that didn’t leave a lot of other things.  

 

She already emptied the chest of drawers and was carefully packing up the items sitting on top of the dresser.  A pocketwatch that had belonged to his father, returned at his request by the Smithsonian.  His compass.  On impulse, Peggy opened it.  The dial was long since rusted in place, but her picture was still visible, pressed against the inside, weathered and cracked.  She closed it and placed it carefully in the bag.  It was surreal, going through his things in this context.  They felt like relics, like the contents of his footlocker after he’d gone missing.  She wondered what he thought of when he saw that compass.  Was that Peggy dead to him?  

 

“Hey,” he said.

 

She jumped, not having realized he was in the room, much less standing right behind her.  “Hey,” she replied.  She looked around the room, frowning.  “Are you sure you can stand to leave all this glamour?”  The windows were painted shut.  The only way into the bathroom was through the closet in the only bedroom.  She hadn’t tried, but she was pretty sure it wasn’t possible to have more than one appliance or cabinet open at a given time in that thing he called a kitchen.

 

“You know,” he said dryly, “not all of us invested in tech stocks in the eighties.”  He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her waist, pressing a kiss to the back of her head.  

 

They were quiet for long minutes.  Peggy listened to an argument several of his neighbors were having.  This place really was awful.  It made her so sad to think of him living here, alone.  He stood there, at her back, feeling so damn solid and sure.  It felt like an especially cruel illusion to her, because she knew how human he was, how fragile.  He kissed her ear, and then her cheek.  She turned toward him and he kissed the corner of her mouth.  She twisted in his arms, catching his lips.  

 

* * *

 

Peggy and Steve set everything down on the bed back at Peggy’s - their - apartment and began unpacking.  Peggy started a load of laundry with the things they’d taken from the hamper at his apartment, throwing in the things from the bag they brought back from the Tower.  Steve was cramming his clothes into the drawers Peggy emptied days earlier.  Anybody wanting military precision from Captain America would have been sorely disappointed.  Luckily, given the amount of spandex he favored in his daily wear, his clothes didn’t tend to wrinkle.  It did amuse her to no end how tight he tended to wear his shirts.  Not that she was complaining.  But it was one of the more amusing ways in which he was embracing the modern age.  

 

Peggy hung his few dress shirts in the closet and lined his shoes against the back wall, beneath the shirts.  He had a half dozen boxes of identical shoes, all brand new.  She wondered how often he went through a pair of shoes.  She was guessing he got no more than two weeks out of them, if he was running regularly.  He hadn’t been running lately, what with all the gut wrenching family angst and babysitting Bucky and then Tony.  Not that it showed, of course.  His physique was as impressive as always.

 

Grateful to be back in her own space, Peggy peeled off her clothes and headed for the shower.  She washed her hair and was rinsing out the conditioner when Steve joined her.   She was really beginning to wonder about both of them.  How, after the last several days they’d had, could the physical desire be so overpowering?  She had no idea.  But it was.  The water was starting to cool by the time they finished.  Steve got to wash his hair in some decidedly cold water.  It would probably make his hair extra shiny, but Peggy doubted it would have much effect on the rest of him.

 

Steve ordered food and they curled up on the couch together in sweats.  Peggy was more than a little surprised that there wasn’t a Bucky shaped groove in the cushions.  Steve was typing on his phone and Peggy looked over at him.  “Who are you texting?”

 

“Buck,” he said absently.  “He wants you to know you got the wrong protein bars.  They don’t have chocolate chips.”

 

“Oh, the horror,” she said dryly.  She looked at Steve.  “How’s he really doing?”

 

“Okay, I think,” he said, brow creasing as he did his best to decipher Bucky’s texting.  “Sharon and Sam are going to swing by in an hour or so and check in on him.”

 

Peggy sighed, closing her eyes.  “We never had the neurologist check him out again.”

 

“Yeah we did,” Steve said.  “You slept through it.  At the Tower.  Apparently everything looked good.  Any remaining anomalies are supposedly a permanent part of Bucky’s natural charm.”

 

Peggy snorted at the idea of Bucky’s natural charm.  He could be charming, she knew.  But she couldn’t remember the last time he’d tried to charm her.  Which was fine.  She much preferred him without that false veneer.

 

“That’s good he checked out,” she said, looking over at Steve again.  He’d been on his phone all day and she knew he was playing catch up with the team being offline for several days.  It was unavoidable, of course.  But it probably didn’t help any of their ongoing missions.  “Are you going into the office tomorrow?  I’m guessing that with Tony on the mend, things will slowly get back to normal.”

 

“I need to go in,” he said quietly.

 

“Has anyone heard back from Thor?” Peggy asked.

 

Steve nodded.  “He checked in this afternoon, according to Maria.  He’s supposed to be at the Tower tomorrow.  We have to make the most of him while he’s here.”

 

“So you’ll ship out?” she asked.  “Minus Tony, and Natasha?”

 

“Yeah,” Steve said wearily.  “Probably Eastern Europe again. We’re getting closer to Strucker, but it’s a hell of a web to try and untangle.  It’ll probably take us months.  More and more old Stark tech is showing up on the black market.  It makes things difficult.”

 

He put the phone down and looked over at her, draping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her against him.  “Are you going to be okay with me gone?” he asked carefully.  

 

“You mean, can I manage to hold it together while you’re out of town and not completely sabotage our relationship?” she asked, with only a little bitterness.

 

“Yeah,” he said flatly.

 

She frowned at him.  “In the immortal words of visionary inventor Howard Stark, _eh, maybe, but it’ll be a hell of a show either way_.”

 

 _“Peggy_.”

 

She frowned at him and carefully said, “I’m an adult in possession of my faculties.  Do you feel like you have to babysit me now too?”

 

The corners of his mouth pulled down sharply.  “I think you could use some support,” he said.  “And I think you’re terrible at asking for it.”

 

“So politic,” she said, rolling her eyes.  “I’ll be fine.  I have dinner plans tomorrow with Sharon.”  She looked at him.  “Go.  Avenge.  I’m sure you’ll have a lovely time slogging through foreign mudpuddles.”

 

He made a face and she knew he was not excited at the prospect of being deployed.  Especially since he was doing it to himself.  But as with so many other things in their lives, they didn’t really have a choice.  

 

“So what are you planning to do while I’m gone?” he asked.

 

“Laundry,” she said.  “Then check on Bucky.”  She took a breath and looked at Steve.  “I’m going to call and schedule the sterilization procedure.”

 

His lips pursed together.  “Do you think that’s a good idea?  Right on the heels of everything you went through for Tony?”

 

“I think it’s a great idea, Steve,” she said sourly.  “I can hardly wait to have elective surgery.”

 

“You know what I mean,” he said.

 

She sighed.  “You want the truth?” she asked, then went ahead without waiting for a reply.  “I have no interest in having surgery.  But I really don’t want more children.  I have Sharon.  She’s more than enough.  And yes, I’ve had a whole lot of unprotected sex in my life that luckily didn’t amount to anything.  But after a certain point in my life, even if something had happened, I would have dealt with it.”

 

He looked at her.  “Meaning what?” he asked cautiously.

 

“Meaning I would have terminated them,” she said quietly, wondering how that would sit with him.  Either way, it didn’t change how she felt, or what she would have done.  “I would have ended the pregnancy and I wouldn’t have had a moment of regret.  I’m a shitty mother and I know it.”  

 

He didn’t say anything, so she pressed on.  “The issue with you is that it would make the decision infinitely more difficult.  I don’t want to be in that position, Steve.  I don’t want to accidentally end up pregnant and have another child because I couldn’t bear to terminate a pregnancy with you.  I would prefer to avoid the issue entirely.”

 

He nodded slowly.  “Okay, then.”  He sat there for a long moment, quiet.  “Is that - “ he stopped, regrouped.  “I mean, when you found out you were pregnant with Sharon, did you consider - “

 

“No,” Peggy said, shaking her head.  “Not that it would have been easy to have a termination in 1945, but no.  I would have had her regardless.”  She took a deep breath.  “She was ours.  Of course I was going to have her.  But even if she hadn’t been yours, I would have carried her to term.  I was young.  And stupid.  I had no idea what I was getting into.”

 

“So,” he said cautiously, “if you had it to do again - “

 

“Don’t try to make it retroactive, Steve,” she said quietly, but firmly.  “I’m ninety-five.  I don’t want a baby.  At twenty-six, it was a different story.”

 

“I’m just - “  He stopped, frustrated.  “I’m just trying to understand.  What you went through.”

 

“Good luck,” she said sourly.  “Sharon’s nearly seventy and I’m still trying to figure it out.”

 

He sighed.  “How soon can they schedule the procedure?”

 

“I don’t know,” she said.  “I’ll find out tomorrow.”

 

He looked at her for a long moment.  “I would prefer that you at least wait until I’m here, to do it.  But I know how erratic my schedule is.  So if I’m not here, please promise me you’ll call Sharon and let her take care of you.”

 

She frowned at him.  

 

“Peggy.”

 

“Fine,” she said.

 

“I’m calling Sharon and telling her to check on you,” he said.

 

* * *

 

Steve was up before dawn the next morning and she walked him to the door.  She took the new phone and tucked it into his shirt pocket.  “What’s this?” he asked.

 

“A phone,” she said.  “Military grade.  Encrypted.  It’ll work anywhere.  And Tony can’t track it or eavesdrop on it.  I already programmed my number in.”

 

He leaned down and kissed her softly.  She returned it with all the love she felt for him.

 

“I’ll call,” he said.  “A lot.  And you’ll humor me.”

 

She nodded.

 

He pulled her close again, pressing a kiss to her forehead.  “I love you, Peggy Carter.  More than you know.”

 

She wrapped her arms around his neck.  “I love you too.”  She sniffled.  “Whatever your name is.”

 

“God, right in the gut,” he said in mock hurt.

 

She smiled at him.  “Go on, soldier,” she said softly.  “I’ll see you in a few days.”

 

He nodded and turned, pulling the door shut behind himself.

  
  


END CHAPTER


	34. And My Kingdom As Great

“Check in with her, please,” Steve said into the new phone, leaning back against the wall of the express elevator at the Tower.  “She said she was going to schedule her surgery, I don’t want her to try and do it with no help.”

 

“I’ll check in,” Sharon said.  “We’re having dinner tonight.”

 

“Yeah,” Steve said, “that’s what she told me.  I just ... you two take care of each other while I’m gone, okay?”

 

He could almost hear her smile.  “We will,” she promised.

 

“I love you,” Steve said.

 

“I love you too.  Be careful.”

 

Steve ended the call as the elevator doors opened.  He slipped the phone in his pocket.  Despite the early hour, things were buzzing.  There were workers, hauling away all of the debris from the fishbowl.  Maria Hill was watching them.  Steve crossed the room to stand next to her.

 

“Tony’s up,” Maria said, lips pulling into a disapproving frown.  “He’s in the briefing room.”

 

Steve arched an eyebrow.  “I thought he was supposed to be confined to the infirmary for the next week.”

 

“Yeah,” she said, “you know how well he follows orders.  Especially doctors’ orders.”  She sighed.  “In his defense, he is still in his pajamas.  And he looks better.  I think Pepper may have a nervous breakdown though.”

 

Steve headed to the briefing room.  Tony was indeed in there and he had taken over nearly every square inch with, what looked like, every creature comfort he could devise.  Steve understood that the Tower was literally and figuratively Tony’s home.  But this was more than a little ridiculous.  He had a perfectly good penthouse three floors above.

 

“Tony,” Steve said.

 

Tony looked up.  “Cap.”  His voice was still rough and not quite as strong as usual.  His skin was sallowed and there were bandages on his arms from the IVs.

 

Steve took a seat in one of the conference room chairs and waited for Tony to quit pretending he was engrossed in something.  It took several minutes, but he finally sighed and set down the tablet.  

 

“I owe you,” Steve said, threading his fingers together as he watched Tony.

 

Tony’s brow furrowed, but he slumped back in his chair.  “You owe me?” he said, obviously surprised though not necessarily opposed to the arrangement.

 

Steve considered his words.  “If you hadn’t started that fight and called Fury out on Bucky’s missing records, I never would have found Peggy - or she wouldn’t have found me.  And I probably wouldn’t have ever had a meaningful conversation with Sharon.”

 

Tony narrowed his gaze, taking in the words.  Slowly, he nodded.

 

“So ... thanks,” Steve said.

 

Tony frowned.  “You know about the video, don’t you?”

 

Nodding, Steve said, “I do know about the video.  My daughter is the one who informed us.”

 

“You know,” Tony said, “in my defense, I had no idea that Carter was going to be saving my life directly after I showed it to Barton.”

 

“Thank you for keeping it off the market,” Steve said, “but it was a dick move.”

 

Tony frowned, looking like a child caught in a lie.  “Modern age,” he said flatly, trying to convince himself as much as Steve.  “Eyes everywhere.  You gotta cover your assets, Cap.”

 

“Dick move,” Steve repeated.

 

Tony frowned, his fingers drumming quickly on the tabletop.  “Even after seeing the video evidence,” he said, “and the party, I still have a hard time buying you and Carter together.  No offense.”  He took a deep breath.  “She’s ... uh ... “

 

“A force of nature,” Steve offered.

 

“Mercenary,” Tony replied, frowning.  “She’s mercenary.  And remorseless.  And self-involved.  A lot like Howard.”  

 

Steve looked down, staring at his hands.  He understood why Tony felt that way.  And he understood it had far more to do with Howard, than with Peggy.  But Steve disagreed completely on both accounts.

 

“I still think Carter and Barnes being involved is an easier sell than you and her,” Tony said quietly.  

 

“Because she’s evil and I’m such a square,” Steve said sourly.

 

“Partly,” Tony admitted.  “Mostly.”  He sighed.  “But seeing her at the party, and then around the Tower ...”  He shrugged.  “I don’t know.  Maybe there was a lot more to both her and Howard than I gave them credit for.  She tried to help me once and I was a dick.  I propositioned her and then  pushed her out of my life.”

 

Steve frowned, trying to take that in stride.  Clearly, it hadn’t happened recently.  Taking a breath, he regrouped.  “Howard and Peggy are, _were_ , both good people.”

 

“Maybe you bring out the good in some otherwise shitty people,” Tony said, arching an eyebrow.

 

Steve shook his head.  “Whatever dubious abilities I possess, that’s not one of them.”

 

“The notoriously hard-hearted Peggy Carter cares about you,” Tony said.  “Even I can see that.  And it looks like she and Sharon have an actual relationship now, which is probably your doing.”

 

“That’s their doing,” Steve said.  “I can’t take any credit for that.”

 

Tony didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push it.  “Anyway,” he said, “I’ll get the video files back, make sure they never get published anywhere.  In the future, you should probably keep an eye out for security cameras before you decide to bone your girlfriend in a public place.”

 

“Yes, thank you,” Steve said dryly.

 

* * *

The entire team was crowded around the briefing room, some having had to carve out space among all of Tony’s crap.  Natasha still looked awful.  According to Maria, Natasha was on some heavy duty antibiotics and painkillers and would be lucky to heal without major complications.  

 

Barton looked like crap as well, though Steve suspected that had a lot more to do with guilt than with any physical ailment.  It was Barton's attempt to teach Sam another lesson that had ultimately set off the chain of events culminating in Tony’s injury.  And apparently it was Barton, not Tony, who had been responsible for the wider distribution of Steve and Peggy’s unintentional video.  Steve suspected Barton would be doing a lot of apologizing for the foreseeable future.

 

The team went over the intel and mission plan.  It looked like a three day op.  There was a side mission that could potentially take an extra day or two.  Typically Steve would have volunteered without thinking, given that he never had plans or obligations outside of the mission.  

 

“I got it,” Barton said.  He looked at Steve.  “Cap’s got a family to get home to.”

 

Steve’s immediate response was to argue, but he held his tongue.  Barton was right.  Steve did have a family to get home to, strange as it was to think of Peggy and Sharon in those terms.  And Steve did not relish the idea of an extra day in the field.  He nodded to Barton.  “Thanks.”

 

* * *

Peggy waved to Sharon as she entered the restaurant.  Sharon nodded and joined Peggy at the table.  They ordered beverages and as they were both looking over the menu, Sharon said, “Steve called me this morning.  He told me you’re scheduling your surgery.”

 

Frowning, Peggy said, “It’s three weeks out, so you can all calm down.  It’s not like I’m going to take a wire hanger to myself.”

 

The waiter delivered their drinks, a wine for Sharon and tea for Peggy, and took their orders.  Sharon took a sip of her wine, leaning back in her chair.  “So you’re really going to do it,” she said.

 

“Of course I’m going to do it,” Peggy said flatly.  “Why do you say it like that?”

 

Sharon sat there, frowning.  “Daniel,” she finally said, leaning forward, bracing her arms on the table as she met Peggy’s gaze.  “He told me that you two tried to have kids when you first married.”  She shrugged.  “I guess I don’t understand why you would have tried with him, but not with Steve.”

 

“Point of fact,” Peggy said, “I already have a child with Steve.”  She arched an eyebrow.  She sighed, slumping back in her chair.  “And it’s been fifty years, Sharon.”  She took a deep breath and then a drink of her tea.  She looked at Sharon.  “For a while, I thought maybe I could ... fix things by having a child with Daniel.  Redeem myself.”

 

“Starting over,” Sharon said carefully.  

 

Peggy tilted her head in acknowledgement.  

 

“So what changed your mind?” Sharon asked, sounding curious, rather than upset.

 

Peggy laughed mirthlessly.  “The fact that you were never the problem that needed to be fixed,” Peggy said.  “ _I was_.”  She sighed.  “And nothing with me got fixed until very recently.  If at all.”

 

Sharon seemed to take it all under consideration.  The waiter returned and brought their food.  After he left, Sharon took a bite and then sat back, looking at Peggy again.  “Steve’s definitely an old soul,” she said quietly.  “But he’s really young.”

 

Peggy met Sharon’s gaze and held it.  “I know,” she said carefully.  “That’s why I’m having the surgery, not him.”

 

Sharon took another drink of wine.  “Sam’s really young too.”

 

“Do you date people your own age?” Peggy asked.

 

Sharon pursed her lips together.  “Not really,” she admitted.  “On one hand, there’s a lot of shared life experience with people my own age, but on the other hand, not.  A lot of them have families, kids, grandkids.  It makes things awkward for me.”  She looked at Peggy.  “What about you?”

 

“There are no people my age,” Peggy said dryly.  “But no.  I found younger companions asked fewer questions and were generally lower maintenance.”

 

“Do you think it’s selfish?” Sharon asked.  “Being with someone so much younger?”

 

Peggy considered it for a moment.  “For myself, personally, in this instance, no.  Steve’s younger than me, but he’s not a child,” she said, her words slow and measured.  “We have an intense shared history.  I think he probably feels more out of step day to day than I do.  After Fury defrosted him, he had ample opportunity to find someone his own age, and he chose not to.  Steve’s been adamant that he wants a relationship with me.  And I want one with him.  I’ve never loved anyone the way I love him.  Then or now.  So here we are.”  She looked at Sharon.  “And you?”

 

Sharon frowned.  “I don’t know,” she said, with the same earnest expression Steve usually wore.  “By virtue of his job, Sam’s probably a lot better positioned to understand my life than most other people.  We have a lot in common.  He already knows my history, which, at this point, is not trivial.  But I’m not sure what he gets out of a potential relationship.”

 

“Have you asked him?” Peggy asked.

 

Sharon bit back a smile.  “Yes,” she said. “I have.”

 

“And I’m going to assume he has some answer that leaves no doubt that he wants a relationship,” Peggy said.

 

Sharon nodded.  “He’s very vocal about it,” she said, trying to sound annoyed, but clearly amused.  She sighed, shaking her head as she smiled.  “He never shuts up.”

 

That much, Peggy had no trouble believing.  For as good a listener as he was, Sam Wilson could give Bucky Barnes a run for his money in the jaw wagging department.  “Sam knows what he’s getting into,” Peggy said.  “As much as anyone can before they actually do it.  But he has good instincts.  And a good heart.  You have to decide if you want to trust him.”

 

“Oh, I trust him,” Sharon said.  “It’s myself I’m not sure about.”

 

“Sharon,” Peggy said firmly, “trust yourself.  In this respect, you are your father’s child.  You have no reason to doubt yourself.”

 

Sharon looked at her, eyes glassy.  “Thank you,” she said softly.

 

The topic of conversation eventually strayed to more mundane subjects.  Bucky’s ‘improvements’ to Peggy’s loft, the new place Sam was trying to sublet in Midtown, a potential baby shower for Pepper.  

 

It was late when they finally parted company.  Sharon was on her way to meet up with Sam.  As they were saying their goodbyes, Peggy’s phone started ringing.  “It’s Steve,” she said, looking at the caller ID.

 

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” Sharon said, taking off.

 

Peggy was smiling as she answered the phone.  “Yes?”

 

“I don’t _believe_ you,” Steve hissed.

 

“I left clear instructions not to open that file until you were certain you were alone,” Peggy said with mock censure.

 

“I was alone,” Steve said sourly.  “It’s just ... _Peggy_.”

 

“Oh, don’t pretend you weren’t curious,” she chided.  “And I do have to say, it was an impressive performance.”  There was silence on the other end and Peggy could clearly picture his expression, angry, yet turned on, blushing bright red.  “I uploaded a couple additional files,” Peggy said conversationally.  “I’m sure if you dig around, you’ll find them.”

 

“What are they?” Steve asked quietly.  He wasn’t pretending to be mad anymore.

 

“Oh, only me, you know, around the house,” she said innocently.  “Listen, I need to catch a ride home.  I’ll call you back in twenty minutes.  In the meantime, why don’t you look for those other files.”  He made a sound somewhere between a growl and a whimper.  “Love you!” she said brightly and ended the call.

 

Peggy was smiling to herself as she climbed into the back of the car.  Truthfully, she was really fucking irritated at Tony for showing that video file to Barton, and by extension, the entire team.  But like she’d told Steve, as far as performances went, it was a good one to memorialize.  The angles in the video hadn’t been great and a good portion of their lower bodies had been obscured by the recycling bins.  But Peggy knew first hand what had happened, how he had felt, how he tasted and smelled.  So her mind eagerly filled in the blanks while watching the video.  She knew Steve’s did as well, which was why she put the file on his phone.  She didn’t like him being away, but it was unavoidable.  However, she had no intention of leaving him wanting while he was slogging through foreign mudpuddles.

 

The other video files were exactly what she’d said ... _her_ , around the apartment. They started tame, a couple of her yoga routines.  One of her getting dressed in her red bandage dress from the party.  The last two were more risque.  In the first one she was wearing one of his dress shirts, unbuttoned as she lay on the bed wearing nothing else but a garter belt and stockings - new acquisitions that he hadn’t had a chance to see in action in real life - yet.  Her favorite was the one she shot last night, in their bed.  She was wearing his t-shirt, but it was rucked up to expose her breasts as she pleasured herself with her fingers - with him sleeping in the background.  That one would have the added bonus of getting him very hot and bothered while also incredibly irritated with himself for sleeping through the show.  All in all, he had about half an hour of video files, which should give her just enough time to get back to the apartment and make herself comfortable.

 

* * *

“What time is it there?” she asked, settling back in the pillows with her laptop.  She had the sheets pulled up under her chin.  Wherever he was, it was dark, and he looked like hell.  It looked like he was inside the Quinjet.  She wondered where the rest of the team was.

 

“Zero dark thirty,” he said.  “I don’t know.  I can’t sleep.”  He looked exhausted, but not sleepy.  She knew that expression well from the war.  He was amped up.  She doubted he would catch more than a few catnaps the entire time he was gone.  Hopefully she could help him relax.

 

“So, what did you think?” she asked, grinning wickedly.

 

He shook his head, but couldn’t bite back the smile.  “I don’t believe you,” he said again in a scandalized whisper.  He frowned at her.  “You could have had the decency to wake me up last night.”

 

She shrugged.  “You were very tired,” she said.  “And it would have ruined the surprise.”  She sat up then, repositioning the laptop on a stack of pillows, so the camera could get most of her body.  She kicked the sheet to the foot of the bed, leaving her bare.  Steve groaned.  “So, just out of curiosity,” she asked, “what would you have done last night if I woke you up?”

 

“ _Peggy_.”

 

“Tell me, Steve,” she said.  “Or I’m going to have to use my imagination.”  She covered one of her breasts with her hand.  She’d painted her nails earlier to a glossy crimson finish.  He made a helpless noise and she bit down on her bottom lip, skimming her hand down her torso as he watched.

 

* * *

Two days later, Peggy was finishing up some work in her office when her phone rang.  She glanced at the caller ID.  “Are you back?”

 

“Yeah,” he said, sounding rather harried, “I’m at the Tower.  I’ll be home in an hour.”

 

“Good,” she said brightly, “because I invited Sam, Sharon and Bucky over for dinner.”

 

“Uninvite them,” he said shortly.  “Peggy do you hear me?” he demanded.  “No one but you should be at the apartment when I get there.”

 

“Well, Bucky’s already here,” she said.  It was a lie, but she couldn’t resist.  The part about Sharon and Sam was a lie too.  After the amount of video calls they’d had in the last two days, she knew he had plans for her.  
  


“Either kick him out or lock him on the terrace,” Steve said and hung up.

 

* * *

Peggy looked around the bedroom, body tingling with anticipation.  She’d been worked up since he called an hour earlier.  If some emergency came up and he was late, she was going to kill someone.  She’d gone years without sex, but if she had to wait another hour to feel Steve’s hands on her body, she was going to combust from frustration.  

 

She rolled over onto her stomach, aware of the way her hair felt against the bare skin of her shoulders and back.  Every nerve ending felt like it was on fire.  So far she’d resisted the temptation to take matters into her own hands, but if he took much longer, that was going to change.

 

She heard the apartment door slam and could have wept with relief.

 

“Where are you?” Steve bellowed.

 

“In the bedroom,” she answered, rolling onto her back.  It wasn’t a showy display, no props.  Though she figured after forty-eight hours of foreplay, he probably didn’t need showy.  He was peeling off his t-shirt as he entered the room and his erection was tenting the front of his jeans.  She wanted to feel guilty for teasing him so.  She really did.  But she didn’t regret a damn thing.

 

Steve stopped, standing at the foot of the bed, looking at her, naked in the middle of their bed.  She’d seen that look of intense determination on his features countless times, but never in this context.  Licking her lips, she asked huskily, “Miss me?”  She arched an eyebrow and pulled up one of her knees to give him a better view.

 

He stared at her and she knew how she had to look, flushed, thighs already damp.  Her bottom lip was swollen from where she’d been biting it.

 

He _growled_ , literally growled, and launched himself at her.  She let out an involuntary scream that quickly dissolved into wicked laughter as he pinned her to the bed, rubbing against her.  “You’re ... _terrible_ ,” he said, around kisses and bites.  

 

She raked her fingernails down his back, wrapping her legs around his waist, pushing up against him.  “I didn’t want you to forget me,” she said with feigned innocence.

 

He snorted.  “Not possible.”  He groaned, kissing down her neck, scooting lower.   He cupped her breasts in his hands, but continued to kiss down her body.  She had to unwrap her legs and he immediately hooked one of her thighs over his shoulder, pressing a hard kiss against her damp curls.

 

She yelped, her back arching.  She was so sensitive, after the hours of anticipation and teasing.  He licked at the seam of her lips and she keened, fisting her hand in his hair.  “Please,” she begged.  She tried to push up against him, but he held her firmly in place, reminding her how strong he was.  She whimpered as his lips sealed around her clit and he sucked lightly.  She peaked almost immediately, back arching as her heels slipped against the sheets, fighting for traction.

 

She was vaguely aware of him chuckling as he kissed his way back up her body, but all she could do was lay there, panting.  “Guess I wasn’t the only one who got worked up,” he said smugly.

 

She glanced up to see him delicately urging the zipper of his jeans down and then siding the material down his hips and kicking it away, along with his shorts.  He settled on his side next to her and she wrapped her hand around the back of his head, pulling him down for a series of long kisses.  God she’d missed him.  

 

He shifted so one of his legs was between hers and his hips pressed against her thigh.  Reaching down, she took him in hand, stroking lightly.  “Peg,” he said tightly, “don’t tease.”

 

“Wasn’t planning on it, darling,” she said pushing at his chest, urging him to roll onto his back.  Scooting down, she was true to her word.  She didn’t tease.  She wrapped her hand around his cock and stroked, lowering her head and taking him into her mouth.  He hissed through his teeth, his hand fisting in the sheets.  He was as close as she had been.  In a matter of moments, he was cursing, his toes curling as he came.  Peggy licked her lips and rolled over, pillowing her head on his stomach, smiling up at him.

 

“I’m not done with you,” he said breathlessly, his head lolling back on the pillow.  “I just ... need a minute.”

 

“Take your time, dear,” she said helpfully, patting his arm.  “I understand it’s difficult for a man of your age.”

 

His head immediately snapped up and he narrowed his eyes.  

 

Peggy moved a split second before he did, scrambling for the edge of the bed, but he caught her ankle.  She was laughing as he dragged her back, crawling over her, biting and nipping his way up her body.  He pressed hard kisses across the backs of her shoulders, his hips pushing insistently against her bottom.  He was hard again and she pushed back into him.  He finally rolled her over.  Kissing her, he insinuated himself between her legs.  Blindly, he dug around in the nightstand, finding a condom and putting it on before he slid home.  

 

Peggy wrapped her legs around his waist, going quiet as she concentrated on the feel of him, inside her, around her, his hips rocking against hers in a steady rhythm.  Three days was nothing in the grand scheme of things.  Especially considering how many mutual orgasms they managed to coordinate via video chat while they were apart.  But this homecoming felt different.  Maybe because he was finally coming home to their home, together.  No apartment in Brooklyn.  No Bucky on the couch.  

 

“I love you,” he said, his breath hot against her ear.

 

She nodded, tightening her legs around him.  In a fluid motion, he rolled over, pulling her with him.  She braced her hands against his chest, eyes screwed shut as she rode him hard.  He used his nimble fingers, rubbing her clit, pinching her nipples in the exact way he knew she liked.  She felt it start and she gasped, her head falling back.  His hands found her hips, keeping her moving as the climax washed through her.  With a groan, he slammed her down against him, finding his own release just as hers was ending.

 

They lay together on the bed, spent, fingertips trailing over sweat slick skin.  Peggy felt limp and boneless.  And exhausted.  She hadn’t slept well while he was gone either.

 

“There was another op,” he said quietly.  “Barton took it so I could get home to my family.”

 

She propped her head up on her fist, looking at him.  “Was that weird?” she asked, her free hand on his chest, covering his heart.  She knew that on some level he would always see himself as an orphan, though she hoped that was changing.

 

He shrugged, looking over at her.  He brushed her cheekbone with the backs of his knuckles.  “I don’t know,” he said.  “It was ... nice.  That was the first time I passed on a team op because I had an actual life and people to get back to.”

 

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, “that I didn’t find you earlier.”

 

He shook his head.  “Don’t be sorry,” he said.  “We found each other exactly when we needed to find each other.”

 

She looked at him, brow furrowed.  “Do you really believe that?”

 

He lay there for a long while, brow furrowed, considering.  “I do,” he said.  He glanced over at her.  “What other explanation is there?  There’s no reason I should have survived that crash, no reason I should have been in stasis.  There’s no reason you and Sharon shouldn’t age.  It took a long time, but we all finally found each other, when we needed to.”

 

She wasn’t sure she bought into that theory, but she didn’t feel compelled to argue.  They had each other now and that was all that mattered.

 

* * *

Peggy and Steve eventually made their way out to the kitchen in search of food.  The search turned up nothing and they watched TV while they waited for delivery from the Indian place on the corner.  The sky darkened unexpectedly and Peggy looked out, watching the storm rolling in.  

 

Their evening was quiet, comfortable.  Peggy was wearing one of Steve’s shirts and not much else.  He seemed to approve.

 

After dinner, they took a shower together.  Peggy wasn’t sure how clean either of them were, but it was quite enjoyable.  Later they lounged in their bed.  Peggy read and watched the rain lashing against the windows.  Steve checked email and returned texts.  

 

When they finally turned out the lights, he reached for her again.  It wasn’t like before.  There wasn’t the crushing intensity or the teasing laughter.  There were gentle touches and whispered words of devotion that left them both more shaken than any of their earlier athleticism.  Steve pulled her close, curling around her and she relished the feel of him at her back.   

 

“I love you,” she said softly.

 

“I love you too.”

 

* * *

Peggy woke slowly, frowning as she watched Steve walk out of the bedroom, wearing only a pair of sweatpants, pulling a t-shirt over his head as he went.  She heard the front door close and then several different voices.  Sighing, she pushed herself out of bed and threw on Steve’s undershirt and a pair of leggings.  She was surprised, and not surprised, to see the people crowded around the kitchen island; Sharon, Sam, Bucky, Banner, Natasha, and Hill.  

 

At least the invaders brought provisions.  Peggy watched as Banner opened a box of bagels and donuts.  Sam took the plastic off a fruit tray and then opened another box that looked like it had mini quiches.  Steve was holding the empty coffee carafe, but as Peggy watched, Sharon snatched it out of his grip and handed it to Hill.  Hill took the carafe and looked at Bucky.  

 

“Steve’s not allowed to make coffee,” Bucky said.  “You could use it to repair roads.”

 

Hill arched an eyebrow, but turned to the coffee maker with a look of determination.

 

Having nothing to do, Steve crossed the room to Peggy, kissing her on the cheek.  She leaned into him, narrowing her eyes.  

 

“What?” he asked quietly.

 

“That shirt Sharon’s wearing belongs to Sam,” she said, looking up at him.  Steve immediately paled, frowning as he looked at Sam.  “Stand down, soldier,” she said, wrapping her arm around his waist.  “She’s a big girl.”

 

He was clearly unconvinced, but he didn’t say anything.  

 

“So,” she said carefully, “why are all these people in my kitchen?”

 

“Pepper kicked everyone out of the Tower,” he said.  “Hoping that without distractions Tony will be more compliant with doctors’ orders.  Rhodey’s keeping him company.”

 

Peggy laughed and then stopped herself.  “I wish her the best of luck,” she said.

 

“Come on, dig in,” Natasha said. “The donuts are getting cold.”

 

Banner frowned at her.  “That’s not a thing.”

 

“Yes it is,” she replied, then started for the stack of plates Sharon was holding.

 

Banner shook his head, following.  “No,” he said, brow furrowed, “it’s not.”

 

“So much for our quiet morning,” Peggy said dryly.

 

Steve shrugged.  “Beats being alone,” he said.

 

She looked up at him and he met her gaze, leaning down and kissing her.

  


THE END

  
  
  
  


 

**Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered**

**I have fought my way here to the castle; beyond the goblin city,**

**to take back the child that you have stolen.**

**My will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom as great.**

**\- Sarah to Jareth from Labyrinth**

 

**Author's Note:**

> Any implication of a potential flirtation between Sharon Carter and Steve Rogers in The Winter Soldier is being flatly ignored for the purpose of this story.
> 
> ***
> 
> This is very much a MCU story. I'm basing my continuity, as much as I can, on what is contained in the movies (and Agent Carter and Agents of SHIELD). From the movies, what I can tell is that the space between Bucky's (presumed) death and Steve's (presumed) death appears to be a day or two, a week at most. Looking through dates in the movie, they list Bucky's death as winter 1944 and they don't announce that Steve is missing until March 1945. I don't buy it being 3 or 4 months between those events.
> 
> So ... in the universe of this story, Steve went missing only a couple of days after Bucky. The government didn't announce he was missing until months later.
> 
> ***
> 
> I'm trying to label everything so that the timeline is easier to follow.
> 
> For the most part, everything in the past starts at the first flashback and progresses linearly from there.
> 
> The same with the 'Present Day' timeline (though it's Present Day prior to Avengers: AoU).
> 
> The one exception to this rule, so far, is the 1948 sequence in Chapter 4.


End file.
